


How Rare and Beautiful It Is to Even Exist

by MellytheHun



Series: Not About Angels [4]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Always Check The Notes, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Character Study, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Hux's Tragic Past, I'm Serious, Kylo is Obsessive, M/M, Misleading Tags, Misleading Warnings, Oral Sex, Pain, Rimming, Romance, Smut, Tread Carefully, Trigger Warnings Are Always In Beginning Notes, secondary character death, seriously, there will be so much pain to come
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-08-10 01:13:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 68,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7824400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellytheHun/pseuds/MellytheHun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Time waits for no one, no favours has he. Time waits for no one, and he won't wait for me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter has explicit sexual content in it! For those of you that want to skip it, skip the lines between "Quite the opposite," and "Fuck..."  
> Summary of important information during the sex scene will be described at the bottom notes for those of you that had to skip it!
> 
> Title of Part Four is inspired by, Sleeping At Last by Saturn
> 
> You taught me the courage of stars before you left.  
> How light carries on endlessly, even after death.  
> With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite.  
> How rare and beautiful it is to even exist.
> 
> I couldn’t help but ask  
> For you to say it all again.  
> I tried to write it down  
> But I could never find a pen.  
> I’d give anything to hear  
> You say it one more time,  
> That the universe was made  
> Just to be seen by my eyes.
> 
> I couldn’t help but ask  
> For you to say it all again.  
> I tried to write it down  
> But I could never find a pen.  
> I’d give anything to hear  
> You say it one more time,  
> That the universe was made  
> Just to be seen by my eyes.
> 
> With shortness of breath, I’ll explain the infinite  
> How rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist.

After so many nights of torture at the citadel, truly waking up beside Hux is nearly startling in how much comfort it brings - and so immediately. Just Hux's resting face is enough to make Kylo’s heart throb; brow lax, mouth slack, rosy cheeks squished comfortably against his pillow…

His hair is an absolute mess.

Kylo gazes at him for a long few minutes, taken with him.

“You’re a handsome man, Hux.”

He wants to touch Hux’s hair, maybe tug Hux into his arms, and fall back asleep. That’d probably wake Hux, though. He doesn’t trust that Hux is a deep enough sleeper for gestures like that – the General is a survivalist, and probably wakes at the sound of a pin drop.

Much more rested, clear-headed, and healthier than the cycle before, Kylo is able to influence Hux to stay asleep while he crawls on top of him. He kisses Hux’s neck, and feels Hux getting hard against the thigh he’s wedged between Hux’s legs; he kisses Hux’s cheek, the lobe of his ear, his nose, and then his lips. When he pulls away, Hux sighs out, “ _Kylo_ …”

He’s not awake, though.

Kylo smiles as he looks over the bruises he’s left on Hux’s skin from the sleep cycle before, and he’s inclined to make more.

He would like to have the element of surprise – of spontaneity – but he remembers Hux’s vivid memory of waking up to being assaulted.

Kylo wants no part in that – he doesn’t want to remind Hux of such a terrible thing, well-meaning or not, and he doesn’t want to thrust Hux into a panic. To avoid unintentionally hurting Hux, Kylo gradually loosens his hold over Hux’s dream state, and continues to kiss him; his ear, his jaw, his hairline, the corner of his lips, those long, red lashes - to wake him up, slowly.

When Hux does wake up, it’s with an audible intake, his eyes flutter open, and Kylo can feel the memories of their night together surfacing Hux's frontal lobe.

Hux is still sleepy-eyed, his heart remains at its typical thirty-three beats per minute, and he’s rose-tinted.

“My Knight,” Hux greets, voice low, and coarse.

Heart sort of fluttering, Kylo smiles, and kisses Hux’s lips, whispering against them, “yes, yours.”

“Thought it may have all been a dream.”

“Very much real,” Kylo assures, “Any regrets?”

Hux’s hands find themselves in Kylo’s hair, curtaining both their faces. He pulls Kylo down to kiss him chastely, and then answers, “none. I can feel there’s something on your mind, though. Are _you_ having regrets?”

“Quite the opposite. I’d like to have your body again,” Kylo admits, face a little flushed, “I’m not ready to return to reality.”

Hux’s cock throbs against Kylo's thigh, and he combs his fingers through Kylo’s hair, pushing it back only to have it fall around them again. Hux seems to like that, for whatever reason – that it all falls back down around them again. Kylo isn’t sure what else Hux might expect it to do – his hair won’t just float wherever Hux pushes it to, but inexplicably, Hux’s energy is rather delighted by the falling of it.

“What might you like from it?”

“Would you be willing to lie prone for me?”

There’s a short twinge of anxiety from Hux’s feedback, but there’s heavy curiosity, and overwhelming trust, as well.

“… I’d be willing.”

He sits up on his elbows, and Kylo moves down Hux’s body, giving him space. Hux reaches over to the bedside table, and gets his holopad, explaining simply, “I need to alert Phasma that I’m not dead, but will be late on the bridge. She’s bound to be livid. Or, at least, alarmed.”

Nodding, Kylo watches as Hux turns over on his bed, belly-down, elbows up, typing on his holopad.

Kylo can see from over Hux’s charming bedhead that he has several ‘urgent,’ inboxes, and it looks like most of them are from Phasma.

Hux starts typing, and Kylo looks down Hux’s body.

That bright red hair is a thing of beauty, the flush that moves down his face to his neck, and chest, also appears on his shoulders. He has freckles there as well – on his shoulders. He has a very angular back, that diagonal scar Brendol left on him Kylo is tempted to touch. He’d like to kiss it, to pet over it, but he isn’t sure Hux would like that. He resolves to ask about that at another time.

Kylo’s hands have never seemed so broad before, but they’re wide when they spread over Hux’s flanks. He sees goosebumps rise on Hux’s skin from his delicate touches, and he likes it – he likes every reaction Hux’s body gives. He leans down, kissing the back of Hux’s neck, down his spine, and Hux makes small, appreciative noises to each one. It’s a sweet, intimate thing.

He kisses the indents at the small of Hux’s back, massages his hands down Hux’s thighs, and when he palms Hux’s cheeks apart, he senses another flare of anxiety. He looks up to see Hux’s face half-turned over his shoulder.

Kylo opens his mind to Hux, inviting him inside.

_You are still in control, my dear General._

Hux doesn’t reply, but he makes a visible effort to relax. He goes back to typing, thinking that keeping his hands busy will somehow distract him from Kylo staring, and touching, at his naked body. Kylo already knows Hux won’t be able to ignore him.

He’s counting on it.

He lies down, pulls up close, and wastes no time before broadly stroking Hux’s perineum with the flat of his tongue. Hux’s legs twitch, and his shoulders jump; he’s nervous, but he’s trusting Kylo, and Kylo is grateful for it.

_Your freckles look like cinnamon._

_Shut up._

_Truly, you look good enough to eat, Hux._

_Truly, then, Ren, I hope you choke on me._

Smiling absurdly to himself, Kylo drags his tongue up, between Hux’s cheeks, and to the satin-soft skin of his hole.

Hux’s entire body reacts at once, but Kylo senses pleasure. Some trepidation – this is unexplored territory to Hux. Kylo thinks that it’s finally fair – them being on the same page of not knowing what it will feel like. He licks again, and can’t help but notice this is much more pleasant than he first thought it would be.

Hux still smells and tastes freshly showered, there’s his natural musk, and the cologne, and scent of Hux’s skin on the sheets, but that pink, puckered skin is almost _sweet_. Kylo wonders if he is the only one who could ever taste sweetness on Hux – Hux is certainly not a sweet man. No matter the case, Kylo finds he wants to continue – not really for Hux’s sake, but for his own. He likes the sensation of Hux’s skin under his tongue, feeling him twitch, and listening to him gasp. Being so intimate, doing something so forbidden, fulfills something rebellious, and curious within him.

The unlikely, and inexplicable sweetness is hypnotizing, and Kylo’s tongue moves a lot like his hips did the cycle before; continuously, spiritedly, and involuntarily. He doesn’t know how many minutes pass before he chances a lidded glance up, and sees Hux has abandoned his holopad, and is gripping at his pillow, his shoulders high by his red ears.

_Tell me out loud – do you like this?_

He hears Hux groan, and Hux _feels_  Kylo smile in return.

“Y-yes.”

_Yes, what?_

“Fuck you, Ren.”

_Later, I would like that – tell me that you like this. I want to hear you say it._

He’s been salivating over Hux’s skin; that crevasse between Hux’s freckled cheeks is dripping now, down his body, and down Kylo’s chin; probably making a mess of the sheets. Hux grips his pillow harder and, his breath ragged, he replies, “I like this, I like it – I like your mouth on me –  ** _hanh_**!”

Kylo twists his tongue, and plunges into Hux’s body, loosening his hold, and letting Hux’s cheeks surround him, burying himself in Hux. He’s a little shocked when he feels Hux press back against him, but he loves it too, sends silent encouragements to Hux to indulge – to push back as much as he likes, to give him instruction if he so desires, to keep demonstrating just how much he's enjoying himself.

Hux can’t form a coherent thought back, and Kylo prides himself on that.

Bringing his knees in and up, Hux exposes himself more openly, and Kylo’s ego is fed in a big way; Hux may have taken Kylo into his body before, but he was in no way submissive. Now, though, Hux lying prone, spread, panting, unprepared for an onslaught of pleasure – submissive is a good look on him, Kylo decides.

He laves way, licking into Hux, around that sensitive, soft, pink skin, and he feels Hux trembling under him, can hear him struggling to breathe, can sense his heart pounding at fifty beats per minute. It’s beautiful.

This time, when a voice comes over the comm, Kylo doesn’t stop for it.

“Hux! What do you mean you’ll be late? What the Hells is going on? Did you kill Kylo Ren last cycle? Because if you did, we need a cover story, and fast –"

Hux’s clumsy, shaking hand reaches for his comm, always close to the bed, and he replies, “n-no, Ren’s not dead – I – I’ll just be late.”

To Kylo, there’s a sort of thrill in knowing how Phasma hates him now, a thrill in thinking she could storm in at any moment, and find Hux debauched, flushed, and boneless. He licks in broad circles around Hux’s perineum, applying hot, wet pressure, and then dragging his tongue up again, circling Hux teasingly, and then licking back into him. There’s drool sliding down Hux’s sac, and he’s in no condition to speak.

Kylo could stop, and he should stop, but what’s sex without a little agony?

“Is he there with you? What happened last –"

“ _Ah_!”

The comm is switched off for a second, and Hux glares over his shoulder to Kylo. It’s hard to take any anger from Hux seriously when his fiery hair is going in every direction, and his face is so flustered.

_Feel free to tell Phasma you rode my cock through the entire sleep cycle, I don’t mind._

_Ren, I will ruin you._

_Hux, dear, you already have._

Shutting his eyes again, Kylo focuses his efforts back on making Hux as wet as humanly possible – he cherishes the way that hole twitches excitedly around his tongue. He’s eager to be inside Hux again, and he knows Hux can feel that.

“Hux – what was that? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine – just – _ah_ – just hold the proverbial fort down un-un _til_ I can g-get there.”

Aggravated that he can’t silence himself enough to be professional, Hux tucks his head down against the mattress, letting out a desperate, sobbing sound against the bed in the hopes it will be too muffled for the comm to pick up.

“You don’t sound fine, what in the Hells is going on, Hux?”

Hux growls, pulls the comm close to his mouth, and says in one, rushed breath, “Phasma, I will be in touch with you as soon – as soon as possible, but I swear, if you comm me one more time, I will sic Ren on the entire crew of _Aurora_.”

“So, he _is_ there?!”

Hux shuts his comm off, and tosses it off the bed, pulling his pillow to his face, arching his back, and pushing against Kylo’s tongue, whining openly.

_Do you think you could come like this? From just my tongue?_

Hux isn’t sure – there’s too much sensory input for him to cobble together a verbal or nonverbal response.

_I want to fuck you again, Hux. Will you let me?_

_Yes, but not like this. Want to face you._

_I’d like that._

There’s a sense of confusion from Hux when Kylo doesn’t stop licking at him after that; Kylo sends to Hux how much pleasure he’s deriving from it, and Hux is inexplicably embarrassed. Kylo can’t understand why. He enjoys the rare moments that Hux is shy, though. It’s a side to him not many people ever see.

At some point, Kylo feels something pressed against his shoulder. When he opens his eyes to see what it is, he sees Hux’s trembling hand holding out the slick they used before.

Smirking, sensing how restless Hux is becoming, Kylo takes it, and watches Hux’s arm go back to his abused pillow. He repeats what Hux taught him before; one finger, gently, two fingers, slowly, and two fingers is definitely something Hux likes. Two fingers is precisely when he starts moaning, and arching, and Kylo thinks this might be the best seat in the house; he can watch all of the muscles in Hux’s back clenching and unclenching, how his shoulders stiffen, how his body shivers, he can watch the serpentine shape of Hux’s spine as he rolls to meet Kylo’s fingers.

The third finger is introduced even more slowly, and Kylo takes the opportunity to lick around his fingers, and thoughtlessly drain some of Hux’s pain away. He’s still sore from the first time, just hours ago, and Kylo has no desire for Hux to be in pain. He knows when the pain has dissipated, because Hux lets out a Heavenly, relaxed sigh.

_Let me turn over._

Withdrawing his fingers, Kylo watches Hux fall onto his back.

_You are truly something to behold._

Hux’s face turns redder somehow.

_Shut up._

_I mean it._

_I know, I can feel it._

_Don’t you like it when I dote on you? I like it when you dote on me._

Hux rolls his eyes, and says, “of course _you_ do.”

Hitching Hux’s legs over his shoulders, Kylo kneels, and takes himself in hand, guiding himself into Hux gradually. The pleasure is white hot, and just the sounds Hux makes could make him come. Now, though, from this position, he can watch himself disappear into Hux’s body, and it has an almost mind-numbing effect on him. He can think of nothing else – was there ever artwork? Was there ever stars, nebulae, oceans, or meadows? No – there has only ever been the awe-inspiring beauty, and perfection of Kylo’s body fitting into Hux’s like it belongs there, like they’re two puzzle pieces that have finally fallen together.

He moves his arms to fit under Hux’s lifted thighs, so he can part Hux’s cheeks, and watch his cock spread Hux’s skin. Everything is shining, wet, and tight.

Hux intentionally squeezes around him, and Kylo’s nails dig into his thighs. He shuts his eyes, trying to concentrate on not coming immediately, or letting his inexperience show. He feels Hux’s ankles cross from behind his neck, and he opens his eyes, curious as to why.

“Come here, you menace,” Hux encourages, with a sweetness contradictory to his words.

Without hesitation, Kylo follows the order, just about folding Hux in half, burying himself deeper the more he lowers himself.

Hux’s head lolls back, his neck arching, stretching for Kylo to bite into.

“Fuck, _yes_ ,” Hux hisses, and Kylo feels his cock throb inside Hux; his teeth tighten around the freckled tendons of Hux’s neck. Hux rewards him for the pleasure/pain by curling his waist, rubbing around the head of Kylo’s cock with the inner walls of his body.

Sucking and licking a bruise into where he’d bitten, Kylo starts thrusting slowly, patiently, every move of his body even, and paced. Hux’s noises are subdued, but the stirred buzzing inside his head transfers directly into Kylo’s, and Kylo can feel the way Hux’s legs are shaking against him too; his pleasure is obvious, it doesn’t have to be loud.

Looking down at Hux is more than hypnotizing – Kylo has never cared about anything more in the galaxy.

He looks down at Hux, and he’s overcome with a need to protect, to cherish, to worship, and adore. He’s so taken, so enthralled, just looking at Hux, and thinking to himself that Hux is his lover, Hux cares for him, forgives him, _wants_ him – Hux senses this through their open channel, and makes a high whine – Kylo would think it sounds cute if he weren’t so distracted with how incredible Hux is.

He moves Hux’s legs to wrap around his waist so he can bring himself closer to Hux, and the angle allows him to start hitting that special bundle of nerves Hux loses his higher brain functions over. Hux’s jaw slackens while the rest of him tightens up, his breathing takes on a sort of vibrato.

Kylo wants to speak.

He wants to say something so badly, but he isn’t sure what.

That’s not entirely true – he knows what he wants to say, but he’s never said it before, and he’s not even sure he knows how to.

Hux is beautiful, Hux is mighty, Hux is the rose garden, and the snake hiding beneath it, Hux’s sighs, and spoken words, are music, Hux’s lean, flexible, body is poetry, his eyes are all of space, and time – Hux is everything good, unreal, and terrifying, the universe has to offer. He is _everything_.

Opening his eyes, Hux gasps, holding onto Kylo’s flexed upper-arms for support as Kylo rocks into him. With just a feeling pushed through to Kylo’s mind, Hux orders him to quicken his pace. Kylo does as Hux wishes, but his mind is still swirling, still a thunderous, flashing storm of truth going painfully unspoken, and Hux’s nails scratch down his skin; it occurs to Kylo then, that Hux might be _trying_ to distract him from these thoughts.

He doesn’t want to be distracted from them – he wants to share them. He wants them to be heard.

He kisses Hux’s cheek, and can sense Hux wanting to be mad at him for it for some reason, but he’s not, and he can’t force himself to be.

Kylo kisses Hux’s temple, and Hux sighs, sounding both defeated, and somehow nervous, in a way.

There’s a knot of tense, tingling sensation at the base of Kylo’s spine, and he knows he won’t last much longer, despite wishing he could be tied to Hux like this forever. Being in Hux, a _part_ of Hux – he’s warm, he’s safe, he needs and wants for nothing else. Hux whines again, and Kylo pulls his head up to rest his forehead against Hux’s.

He needs to say it. He needs to confess. He needs to say it, so that it’s real.

“Hux – Hux, I –"

Both Hux’s hands clamp down over his mouth, and he’s shocked at first, but then when he looks down at Hux, he understands.

Hux’s expression is tight with pleasure and pain, but not the type of pain Hux is entirely used to. He’s fearful again. He knows what Kylo wants to say, and he won’t let Kylo say it.

Hux only shakes his head, his hair falling every which way, his eyes shut tightly, his brow knit, his lips pulled in.

_Don’t._

Kylo’s heart twists up.

_Okay. I won’t._

There’s a heaving sigh – it’s not one of relief. Hux lets out this sigh that’s part agony, and part pleasure, and part something untranslatable. He opens his eyes, and they’re glassy, sparkling, open, and imploring.

“Kylo…”

Kylo nods; he gets it.

Hux is terrified. Again.

Of him.

And it _hurts_.

But, he gets it.

He screws his eyes shut, draws his brows in, and starts pounding into Hux’s body mercilessly, gripping at Hux’s waist hard enough to bruise, and Hux’s hands fly to his back, clawing there. He gasps, and moans, his voice rattled at every uptake.

_Tell me it’s good._

“F-fuck, Kylo – more- _more_ than good,” Hux says unsteadily, gravelly voice crackling like a fire, “You feel incredible – you feel _amazing_ –"

_More._

“ _Kylo_ ,” Hux begs, nails scraping down Kylo’s back, “You’re bl-bleeding _perfect,_ and I knew – _anh_  – knew you would be, knew it – I knew it – you’re so thick, the stretch is so good – you’re – _you’re_ so good – you’re so, _so_ good, Kylo, _fuck_ –"

Blood simmering, head spinning, Kylo reaches between them, takes Hux’s throbbing cock in his hand, and starts moving his fist up, and down, in time with his thrusts. Hux unspools beneath him, eyes rolling back, and shutting, legs tightening around Kylo’s waist, jugular bouncing at seventy-two beats per minute. His nails start making indents on Kylo’s back, and Kylo knows there will be marks left, and he loves it. He wants more.

He wants Hux to mark him somehow, so the galaxy can just look at him, and _know_ ; know that he, and all he is, or ever could be, is a living, breathing, dedication of reverence to Hux. Aurelien Roane Hux.

Between grinding teeth, Hux groans Kylo’s name, and arches beneath him when he comes, pulsating, thick, and heavy, over Kylo’s fingers. He lets go, then, once Hux has come on his hand, and between their bodies again – he lets his orgasm wash over him like a tidal wave, and he comes deep inside Hux, rubbing, and bursting against Hux’s prostate. Hux must like that sensation, because his fingers scramble for more purchase over Kylo’s back, and his thighs spread wider.

“Fuck…” Hux eventually mutters exhaustedly.

If he were feeling lighter with a confession in the air rather than tied up in his lungs, Kylo might have laughed. He doesn’t, though. He’s weighed down by the cosmic size of what can’t pass his lips.

Hux is ignoring Kylo’s troubled feedback, and Kylo doesn’t blame him.

“Where do we start?”

Kylo’s brow furrows in curiosity, “what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Hux starts breathlessly, “I – we – things were _said,_ and got a little out of _hand_. Jumping into bed wasn’t wise –"

“It wasn’t about thinking, Hux, it was about feeling –"

“Yes, _feelings_ , which have brought me nothing but _trouble_ ,” he says, as if blaming Kylo for the very existence of all human emotion.

“You said you didn’t regret anything.”

“I don’t,” Hux answers honestly, feeling too-warm in a way that’s strangely comforting, “I… I just don’t know what we do, Ren. I mean, defect? Going rogue? Giving up the crown? I – I was overwhelmed before… if we want to be together, we need to find a way that works. Not something cobbled together in the heat of a single moment where neither of us were thinking with the heads on our shoulders.”

Kylo sighs in understanding, pulling out of Hux slowly, moving to lie beside him, and too worried about the answer to ask if he hurt Hux, going at him so fervently.

Strangely, Kylo feels the presence of the ring in his discarded robes across the room. Hux feels some secondhand version of this, and looks to Kylo with concern.

“What?”

Brow knitting together, Kylo leans up on his elbow, looking out over the floor to his robes where the ring can’t be seen beneath the cloth. He feels it, though. He shuts his eyes, and sees that green lightsaber splintering Hux’s chest. He feels the vague, impending danger like an avalanche coming down on him, energy erupting like a supernova, but not that – not a supernova. Something else. Something he can’t see.

He opens his eyes again, and a sudden knowing falls over him.

He stares at where he knows that ring is, and answers Hux, “…I think Snoke wanted me to kill you.”

“What?”

“I think he knew he’d send me back after too much deprivation – I think he staged it. He made me feral, used you like you use your own officers – he lit a fire between us. I think… you were supposed to be a trap set up for me.”

“He just knew we would have a fall out like that?” Hux asks.

“He’s a powerful Force user, and we haven’t been all that subtle, Hux.”

Hux seems to want to argue that point, but he keeps his mouth shut. He follows Kylo’s eyes to the ring he can’t see.

“Why would he want you to kill me?”

“I have no idea,” Kylo answers honestly, “Punishment? I don’t even know if that’s right – but I’ve… I’ve had visions, and I have received wisdom from the Force. There are…”

This admission is somehow impossibly more difficult than the one he isn’t allowed to make.

“There are things I haven’t told you, Hux,” Kylo confesses, meeting Hux’s eyes, “I didn’t want to frighten you. I have foreseen danger, and it seems like every corner of the Force is pulling in at me, trying to warn me of something too far ahead, I can’t see it myself.”

Hux falls down into his pillows, rubbing his eyes with the heart of his palms, “stars, the _Force_ – what _corners_? What does that _mean_? Where does the Force start or end? It’s nonsense – what sort of visions are you having?”

“Well, the Force _does_ have a sort of beginning,” Kylo explains, looking down at Hux, and wanting to ease Hux’s climbing anxiety while knowing he can’t, “The Force has always been, but it has what Force users have always called its birthplace.”

“Really?” Hux asks drily.

“Yes,” Kylo informs him, “Tython – in the Deep Core. One sun, two moons, it has all manner of terrain – mountains, seas, meadows, arctic wastelands, and every pebble of Tython is Force-sensitive. The entire planet crawls with midi-chlorians, and it’s believed that Tython was not formed by any natural occurrence – it was formed _by_ the Force.”

“How would it do that? It’s not _sentient_ … right?” Hux asks, still not removing his hands from his eyes, frustration mounting.

“No one knows. It predates both Jedi, and Sith, practices. In fact, that’s where the first temples were –"

Kylo shoots upright, his eyes wide, and heart hammering. Hux sits up to look at him, irritation pushed far away, and all that’s left is genuine worry. He touches at Kylo’s shoulder, trying to get Kylo to look at him.

“What – what?” Hux asks.

“Tython,” Kylo says, jumping over Hux, off the bed, and over to his robes to dig out the ring, “ _Tython_! _Hux_! They’re on _Tython_!”

“Who?” Hux inquires, desperately confused, “Who is on Tython?”

Kylo takes the ring into his palm, and stands before the viewport. The ring is burning hot, but no voices or visions come to him. He can feel how right he is. He doesn’t need any spirit to guide him. He knows he’s figured it out. The Force has answered him – he knows what to do.

“The scavenger, and Luke Skywalker,” Kylo answers grimly, gripping the ring under his curled fingers.

“Why would they be on Tython? How would you know?”

“I can feel it, Hux. They’re on Tython – I saw, in the scavenger’s head, the map – there was an island, mountainous, and uninhabited, but for a single soul. It was Luke Skywalker. I’m such a fool for not realizing until now! They’re on Tython!”

“Well,” Hux starts, exasperated, “what in the Hells does that mean for us?”

Kylo looks to Hux.

Maybe Hux doesn’t have to know about the visions.

Kylo remembers Hux’s palpable fear over the gala, and now he’s openly admitted to fearing death. If Kylo can get to the scavenger before she gets to Hux, he can stop this all in its tracks. Then they can figure out what to do – how to make it out of the Order alive, together.

“I won’t lie to you,” Kylo says seriously, “I have more than vengeance on my mind with the scavenger, and Luke Skywalker. This is bigger than that – bigger than me. I need to get to Tython – and in secret. And I’ll need your help.”

Hux curls his lip, uncertain, and clearly displeased, but he won’t leave Kylo now – he won’t let Kylo go into whatever darkness he’s traversing, alone. He exudes loyalty, and a sense of duty typically only reserved for the Order. Kylo always did think Hux would make for a good Knight.

“Okay,” Hux answers, “Anything you need.”

Kylo approaches the bed again, and kisses Hux sweetly, before promising, “this will be okay, Hux. I know what to do now.”

Hux nods, putting nervous, trembling faith into Kylo, and Kylo pets through Hux’s hair, smiles at him, and presses their foreheads together again, “everything will be fine. I’ll protect you.”

Hux kisses him once, and seals his resolve.

He needs to get to Tython, undetected, and _fast_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings for this chapter! :3

The bench in Hux’s shower stall supports Kylo as he lets Hux monopolize the hot spray.

From beneath his soaking fringe, Hux looks down at him, his brow creasing.

“You’re very worried,” Hux states frankly, simply observing.

“Mm,” Kylo hums back, distracted with how in the stars he’s going to get himself to Tython undetected.

“Tell me how to help,” Hux suggests, stepping forward.

Kylo looks up at him, and lets Hux run soapy, much too flowery-scented fingers through his hair. He shuts his eyes, letting Hux wash him.

The bliss of having the pads of Hux’s fingers massaging his head can almost distract him from his worries – if he couldn’t feel, too, what Hux is feeling, he might believe they were already out of the woods. He can sense Hux fighting sharp anxiety off, though. For Kylo’s sake.

_I’m sorry I’m worrying you. It’s precisely what I’ve been trying to avoid._

_Don’t apologize. Just tell me what you need._

“Three ships.”

The hands in Kylo’s thick hair stop moving.

“What?”

“Travel pods – you know what I mean,” Kylo corrects, flipping his hand vaguely, glancing up at Hux from under his lashes, “I need a team, as well.”

“A team?” Hux asks; Kylo can sense Hux already running through potential Officer names, and trooper numbers, like a finger thumbing through the pages of a book, “For what?”

“It’s not easy to explain,” Kylo says simply, “but I will need Nali. And Haas. Jardom, too.”

“To what? Be ritually sacrificed?” Hux interrogates, “What do you need with them?”

Kylo stands, allowing Hux’s hands to fall from his head to his shoulders, and he kisses Hux’s cheek. He presses his forehead to Hux’s temple, holds Hux’s waist, and says to him, “I need them all to be in here – in your quarters. I need two cycles’ time to prepare. Phasma should be informed as well.”

_You’re really beginning to scare me._

_I’m sorry. I don’t intend it._

_I know you don’t._

“Three ships, Phasma, Nali, Haas, and Officer Gillash,” Hux lists, quirking a brow, “That’s what you need?”

“And two cycles’ time.”

“For what?”

“Assemble them all, and I will explain what I intend to do.”

Clearly, Hux wants to bother him more about it, but is trying to be patient. He surrenders to not knowing, finishes washing Kylo, and gets too distracted with kissing him – they waste time and water, but Hux has never cared less about being off-schedule.

Hux has Kylo pushed up against one of the walls of the shower, and he’s moving his body in this fluid, serpentine way that makes Kylo’s stomach jump.

Hux keeps running his hands over Kylo’s flanks, everything smooth, and slippery, and just as Kylo senses Hux about to make fun of him for getting hard again so soon, they both hear Hux’s doors slide open.

“Hux!”

Cringing, Hux glances over his shoulder, like Phasma might be standing in the very shower stall they're still occupying.

He looks back at Kylo, and says, “time to face the music.”

“Have I ever told you how inspiring and moving your unending optimism at such trying times like these, is?”

“It’s all part of my undying charm,” Hux jokes drily.

Strangely, he kisses Kylo once on the lips before stepping out of the shower.

The kiss itself isn’t strange, Kylo supposes, but that there is no purpose behind it is the strange part.

Hux has kissed him thus far for validity, for passion, for release, for security – this, though… this kiss is just for the purpose of kissing him. No expectations attached. He just leans in, kisses Kylo sweetly, and then steps out of the stall. As natural, and unthinking as breathing. The kiss is strange, because Kylo has yet to be kissed just _because_.

Kylo imagines the star Faethea – it is not far from Malachor. Still young, and burning brightly, when he last saw it as a teenager. He thinks that star is most suitable for the purpose of proposing to Hux. Hux would like the flaring, swirling aquamarine color of it – perhaps Hux could even explain to him why stars take on different colors. He’s sure Hux knows. Hux knows everything, and he's good at teaching.

He hears muttering outside the bathroom door, and wraps one of Hux’s towels around his waist before stepping out to see the trouble.

He’s prepared for the worst, but he finds all he expected; Hux, mostly nude, looking like he’s trying to keep a wild beast at bay, and Phasma is standing there, livid, and deadlier than she may have ever been in her life.

Her head twists to Kylo, takes in the image of him, naked, flushed, content, then looks back at Hux.

She scowls dangerously at Hux, and exclaims, “Hux, you didn’t!”

“Ziare, just listen for a second –"

“Absolutely not! I've listened to quite enough!” Phasma shouts, pulling her blaster from the holster on her waist, and pointing it at Kylo’s head, “He’s tampered with your mind, Hux! This is unforgivable! I’ll see him dead if it kills me!”

“Ziare, don’t!” Hux orders, but she doesn’t listen, and doesn’t look his way.

She holds Kylo’s stare.

He senses that she is waiting for his retaliation.

“I have trespassed into Hux’s mind without permission,” Kylo confesses shamefully, “While it has brought me closer to understanding him, it’s a sin I’ll never truly be clean from. I have not tampered with his sense of reality, though. He is too intellectual to play a mindtrick on – he even forced me to try once. I can promise you, he is entirely attached to reality. I am, in no way, controlling him.”

“Then what in the _stars_ would _drive him_ to _lie_ with _you_!?” she shouts incredulously.

“I don’t know,” Kylo replies honestly, glancing at Hux once, then looking back into Phasma’s glare, “I feel as undeserving of his attentions and forgiveness as you’ve established I am. You are deeply cared for by him, and if he would like for you to kill me, I won’t fight you.”

Phasma’s expression is a sort of cross between a sneer, and wrinkled confusion. She watches as Kylo raises both his arms in surrender, hands spread, and slowly gets into a kneeling position on the ground, bowing his head, and only looking up at her from under his brow.

“For how deeply Hux has dug himself into my soul, I could never harm you. You are his only family. So, if you’d like to kill me, and Hux agrees, feel free to. If Hux would prefer I not die, I will defend myself from the blasts, but you will not get the fight from me you are seeking.”

Phasma gives pause.

“Put the blaster _down_ , Ziare,” Hux tells her.

She doesn’t break eye-contact with Kylo. She’s still considering her options; she wants to kill him, and badly; her finger’s on the trigger, and she’s been eager to do this for a long while. She is frustrated by Kylo’s lack of typical aggression, though, and the sincerity he exudes is throwing her off. She is unfamiliar with his ability to be gentle, reasonable, or expressive of anything other than anger, or disdain.

_He would like for me to live, I think._

Phasma scowls more deeply at him.

_Why are you doing this._

_I adore him._

Without loosening her furious expression, Phasma’s cheeks redden a little. Her eyes flash back and forth twice between Hux and Kylo, still assessing the situation. Looking between Hux and Kylo now, she seems to let the domesticity of it all sink in. Their clothes are strewn about, they’re both in matching towels, and Hux has color back in his face for what must be the first time in nearly a standard year.

She meets Kylo’s eyes again.

_Really?_

_Most unfortunately._

She doesn’t mean to smirk, but she does; the admission of misfortune of adoring a man like Hux is something she deems honest. After a moment’s hesitation, she sighs, lowers her arms, and hooks her blaster back into her waistband.

“May I stand?”

“You know you don’t have to ask,” Phasma grumbles, seating herself on Hux’s unmade bed, “It wouldn’t have been satisfactory, anyway – you just surrendering yourself like that, without a fight.”

Kylo gives a weak smile, and stands up, coming to stand next to Hux, and taking hold of his hand.

This seems to shock Hux; he looks at Kylo, and Kylo looks back at him for approval. He knows Hux has missed this; the way Kylo often held his hands. He saw an opening, and took it; he wonders what it will feel like to hold Hux’s hands, and twine their fingers when they’re donned with rings.

_Is this alright?_

Hux’s cheeks fluster, but he nods, and looks back at Phasma.

She’s staring at their twined hands, and he seems hungry for her approval – he doesn’t think he will get it, but he wishes for it, anyway. Despite this all, he is able to say, “I need your help, Ziare.”

Phasma’s brow furrows in worry that he is still using her first name, and she glances between the two of them before settling on Hux again.

“That’s a very bad sentence,” she notes, “What do you need?”

“Well, first I need to be something other than naked, and then I need to gather Officers Haas, Vitaan, and Gillash.”

“For what, exactly?” she scrutinizes.

Hux looks to Kylo, as if giving him the floor, and Phasma follows Hux’s lead. Kylo says simply, “gather them, and I will explain.”

With Phasma there to reinforce him, Hux seems to snap back into reality, and start battling time again like it’s his personal enemy. He sends urgent inboxes to all three officers, who all arrive within minutes of each other; Nali nearly topples Kylo over when she sees him – she rants about how sorry she is she didn’t interact with him upon first seeing him on _Aurora_ again, she was in a state of shock, but she details just how much she missed him. He smiles gently at her, and tells her he’s sorry he missed her birthday.

When Haas arrives, he seems insulted to be counted among the company of Nali, and Jardom, but he says nothing on the matter, and only looks to Phasma, and Hux, for instruction or direction. While Nali and Jardom sit on the couch with Phasma, Haas remains standing – separate from the rest, and looking a little unnerved.

Hux stands in uniform, clearly uncomfortable with so many subordinates in his personal quarters.

Kylo sits everyone down in the common area, and Hux stands beside him, his hands crossed over the small of his back.

“At one point in time, you were all very willing to potentially sacrifice your lives or wellness for General Hux. I need to know if this is still true.”

Haas immediately answers, “of course.”

“Yes,” Nali replies, and Jardom gives a solemn, confident nod.

When Kylo looks at Phasma, she rolls her eyes in disgust that he would even ask, and he corrects his err by continuing without questioning her again.

“I need to get to Tython. Hux cannot accompany me, but he cannot remain aboard _Aurora_ either.”

“What?” Hux and Phasma ask in time.

He looks to Hux, and says, “you need to trust me. You cannot stay aboard.”

Hux’s eyes widen, his calculating mind already miles ahead, “…the third ship you need…”

Heart rate inclining, Kylo watches worriedly as Hux starts to put Kylo’s bare-boned strategy together.

“…it’s for me,” Hux states more than asks.

“Yes,” Kylo answers, “One is for me to get to Tython on, one is for you, and one is a decoy.”

“Where are you sending me?” Hux asks, “Why is there a decoy needed?”

“What is this all about?” Phasma interrupts.

Nali starts asking questions as well, and Haas’s impatience is rubbing off on Kylo’s energy like an irritating rash.

Shutting his eyes, and counting for patience, Kylo only reopens them when everyone is entirely silent.

“It must appear to all-seeing eyes that Hux is aboard _Aurora_ while he’s not. He cannot be aboard _Aurora_ while I am on Tython, and I would bring him with me to Tython if the danger there weren’t so great.”

“All-seeing eyes?” Jardom asks.

“Are you trying to trick the Supreme Leader?” Nali follows up.

Looking at her sternly, Kylo answers, “yes. I will need the help of you all to accomplish this illusion.”

“Ren, what about –“

“I’ll explain everything,” Kylo intercepts, looking at Hux as reassuringly as he can, “Listen. Please.”

Still hesitant, Hux gesticulates for him to continue. Kylo transfers his burst of gratitude to Hux, then looks to the group and expounds, “I need Snoke to believe that _both_ Hux and I are aboard _Aurora_. Phasma – this is where you come in.”

She cocks a brow at him, and he tells her, “you need to run this ship in his absence to his precise schedule. Nothing can seem out of place.”

“And if Snoke comes looking for Hux?”

“Haas,” Kylo says in answer.

All heads turn to Haas, and the boy asks, “what about me?”

“You are the most like-minded person to Hux on this ship,” Kylo tells him, “Your energies are similar, your auras are nearly interchangeable. You will be wearing a type of mask I construct through the Force – I will need to put you into a deep meditative state, place an illusion in your mind so that you believe you are Hux, and moreover – that you are injured due to a fight with me.”

Looking back to Phasma, Kylo says, “if Master Snoke _does_ come looking for Hux, explain that he is comatose due to an attack by me, and my regret has driven me into my own meditative state.”

He looks to Nali, “you will be posing as me, Nali.”

She straightens her back, and her eyes widen a little, “how do you mean?”

“Just as I will alter Haas’s mind to believe he is Hux, and injured by my hand, I will put you into a similar state, believing you are me. I will be placing protective fields around you both – Master Snoke shouldn’t come looking for Hux, but if he does, he will sense what he thinks is my presence, Hux’s presence, and there will be a viable reason he would not be able to have audience with either of us.”

“Where do I come into play in all of this?” Jardom asks.

“You need to watch over them,” Kylo tells him severely, his eyes dark, and serious, “My ship will be going into light speed – this could draw attention. The two other ships I’m sending out cannot be remarkable. They will be carried only by inertia. Master Snoke won’t be looking for something that could be mistaken for a satellite. The decoy will be pushed in the direction of the nearest planet, while Hux’s will be pushed toward nothing, but uninhabited space. If all else fails, this at least buys me time to get to Hux before Master Snoke does.”

“Ren…” Hux mutters worriedly.

Kylo looks back at him, and tells him, “please, trust me.”

Swallowing, shutting his eyes, and steeling himself, Hux eventually nods, and sets his eyes forward with focus again.

Kylo looks at Jardom, and explains, “I will need to use a great deal of power for my own ship to go unnoticed while departing, but I can do it. I will have to do that, however, while maintaining my illusions over Haas and Nali from very far away. If I experience some sort of turbulence, their meditative states might break, or they may even receive visions being shared from my mind – if either of them break from their unconscious states, it will be like a solar flare, or a bubble of power popping suddenly, and Master Snoke _will_ notice it. If either of them are showing signs of discomfort or wakefulness, you will need to make efforts to calm them down while keeping them in a Theta state.”

“Let me get this straight,” Phasma begins, looking skeptical, “I run the ship as Hux would, and you are going to create decoy… energies? That mimic you, and Hux? So, that it appears all is running smoothly, and you are both still aboard?”

“Yes,” Kylo answers.

“Right,” she says, a biting still in her voice, “Then you’re high-tailing it to Tython _invisibly_? While two other ships are carried away by _inertia_ for the sake of going unnoticed, and one will contain Hux.”

“Correct.”

“Sounds perfectly reasonable,” Phasma states sarcastically, “but can we know _why_ in the Hells any of this is necessary?”

Kylo feels Hux’s eyes on him; Hux is in want for this information as well, but Kylo doesn’t want Hux’s personal energies to exude too much fear. If Hux becomes paranoid, too concentrated on his fear of death or danger, and Kylo being away from him, Snoke might notice the spike of energy, and see what is happening before it unfolds. And Kylo is worried that’s precisely what will occur if he tells Hux of his visions.

He decides to remain vague.

“There is grave danger approaching,” Kylo announces grimly, “I’m meeting it halfway. If I fail, my powers over Nali and Haas will evaporate – this would be the worst-case scenario. If Jardom reports to you that both Nali and Haas have woken at once, it will be your job to get to Hux, and find some way, and somewhere, to hide him.”

“ _Why_?” Phasma presses angrily, “What does Snoke want with him?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Kylo answers honestly, hotly, “I don’t know, alright? I… look, we can’t waste anymore time. Are you all willing to do this, or not?”

Haas stands at attention, and responds dutifully, “for General Hux, anything.”

Nali stands beside him, also at attention, and tells Kylo, “I trust your judgment, Lord Kylo Ren.”

Jardom joins them in line, and says calmly, “count me in.”

Kylo looks to Phasma, and she sighs, stands, and says, “fine. For the record, I don’t like this, but fine.”

Finally, Kylo looks to Hux. Hux quirks a brow, not understanding what Kylo is looking at him for.

“Your consent, General,” Kylo tells him, “You are in control.”

There’s that beautiful shine that crosses over Hux’s eyes sometimes, and then he nods and agrees, by saying quietly, “I trust you.”

_May I kiss you? In their presence?_

Red fills up Hux’s ears.

_Are you just trying to mark your territory in front of Haas like a child?_

_No_ , Kylo answers genuinely, _That you are trusting me has pleased me. I wish to kiss you. May I?_

_Yes._

Smiling, Kylo leans in, and kisses Hux’s warm cheekbone gently.

He doesn’t look back to see Haas’s expression; Kylo’s possessiveness of Hux, and his jealousy of Haas, drove him to harm Hux. He knows he needs to let it go. Hux _trusts_ him, and has chosen _him_. He focuses on that, and leaves them all briefly to return with one of Hux’s uniforms.

Still on its hanger, he hands it to Haas, “you will be fully dressed as Hux. If Snoke does a visual sweep of the ship, this will give him more reason to believe Hux is truly here.”

Haas’s loathing is palpable, but he takes the hanger respectfully, and agrees to go change in the ‘fresher.

“Do I need to get into civies?” Hux asks.

Kylo turns to him, and asks curiously, “civies?”

“Civilian clothing,” Phasma tells him with a smirk, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Hux out of uniform. You don’t have civies, do you?”

Hux crosses his arms over his chest, and tells her, as if she already ought to know, “I had no _need_ for informal clothes.”

“It’s fine,” Kylo assures him, “Just dress down.”

Turning towards his room, Hux goes off to do so. Kylo then looks to Jardom, and says, “I need access to the kitchen. I need to prepare a tea, and a steam for Nali and Haas.”

“Yes, sir,” Jardom replies, “Follow me.”

As Kylo leaves the room, he touches at Nali’s shoulder encouragingly. She smiles at both Jardom, and Kylo’s forms as they leave the room. Once they are out of sight, she looks back at Phasma, and asks, “do you think we’ll die?”

Phasma looks at the shut door, and answers, “I don’t know.”

“Nali.”

Both women look to see Hux standing in his sweatpants, undershirt, combat boots, and dog tags, holding something in his hand.

“Yes, sir?”

“Come here.”

She follows his order, and he leads her away toward his viewport. She looks up at him, the sparkle of idealization, and honor in her pink eyes. He takes a deep breath, takes one of her hands, and places his dagger in it.

She looks at him in misunderstanding, and he tells her, “this was a gift from my older brother, Brendol. He gave it to me as a type of charm for strength. For protection. Eventually, protection from him. Even then, he managed to steal it from me, and embed it in my ribs. Now, though, I’d like for you to have it.”

Staring in wonderment, Nali holds the handle of the dagger in her hand, and examines the blade. She is macabre, and sentimental, as Kylo is, and knowing Kylo as he does, Hux can tell she is thinking this gift is all the greater for having once been part of Hux’s body. He doesn’t personally understand that particular dark, peculiarly romantic notion, but he recognizes it as he’s seen it so often in Kylo’s expressions.

“Sir, I’m _honored_ ,” Nali says breathlessly, “May I ask why you are gifting this to me?”

He waits for her to meet his eyes again before telling her, “I have killed many with that dagger. I’d estimate anywhere around two-hundred souls are on that blade. When I was young, and naïve, I used to think of how big a bed I would have when I grew up, how tidy, and lived-in a home I would make, what pets I might adopt. I, too, believed that someday, I wouldn’t have to hurt anyone to stay safe anymore. That I would have eventually met a quota – hurt or killed enough people, been alone long enough, or decimated enough Rebels, that I would hit some milestone of destruction, and then be gifted the time, and space, to create rather than destroy. It took me a long time to learn that these two things happen in tandem more often than not, and that the universe is not so simple. There is no order to it – no quota, no prime number to meet that would qualify me for freedom from the destiny I was born into. I thought I would use that very dagger to free myself from the restraints of time, impermanence, and isolation. I don’t think that’s how it works, though. I don’t think that’s how anything works, really. Not anymore.”

He drags a hand over his drying hair, and says to Nali, more simply, “what I mean to say is that I don’t believe I’ll be needing it again, and I would keep it for the sake of sentimentality, but I believe it might strengthen you, and so to not pass it along would be a waste.”

Her eyes flicker between his, still a little confused, and he explains kindly, “someone dear to me once taught me that friends are people who care about each other – that they are people who take care of one another in times of need, who help one another, and give to each other without thinking of receiving something in return. Friends are people that strengthen each other, and invest in the success, and wellness, of each other.”

He reaches forward, and curls Nali’s hands around the dagger, having her encase it, but he keeps his hands there, securing it in her hold, “this is my way of showing that I care about you, and your future. This is all I can do to be there in a time you might be in need of my aid. _This_ is how I can help, this is what I can give. This is what I can strengthen you with. This is my investment. For your safety, success, and wellness. Do you understand?”

With her big, humanoid eyes watering, Nali bites her lip, and nods vigorously without speaking (presumably, to keep from openly crying). Hux swallows with some difficulty, doesn’t really understand himself why he continues, but he goes on to say, “do not forget – every battle you fight in this life will be uphill, the weather and chances will never be in your favor. But you have overcome. And you will overcome more, and if there is any advice I can leave you with, Nali…”

Her concentration on him is so intense, it’s as if he’s the only voice to have ever existed in the known universe. He feels validated in doing this; in just the way she looks at him, he feels sure that giving her his most personal, prized weapon is the right action to take.

“It is to trust your intuition,” Hux tells her, “If your hand moves for that dagger without apparent cause – do not hesitate. Your body often knows what your mind has not yet realized. You are sharp, suited to survive, and to thrive. You have come a long way – take this dagger, and kill every fear you have with it. You are a formidable warrior, a quick strategist, a talented pilot, but more than all of that, you are a worthy person, Nali.”

He lowers his voice as he hears Phasma talking to Haas about fixing at Hux’s uniform on Haas’s smaller frame.

Leaning into Nali, and keeping quiet gives the rest of his talk a more conspiratorial tone.

“You are worthy of safety, kinship, respect, and all you have often been denied. Know there is more to be had from others than fear – you are deserving of more than their fear, and you will have it.”

Without prompting, Nali throws her arms around Hux, embracing him tightly, and crying into his chest. He pets her head, and smiles down at her, a little bewildered by her emotional outburst, but not unwilling to bear the weight of it.

It takes him a long moment of her blubbering undying gratitude into his grey tank for him to realize he had said to her all he had ever needed to hear – that for a moment, he was, for her, the person he once needed.

In the hopes that he will do right by her in that respect, he hugs her back.

“Nali,” Hux asks, “you know what a kill shot is, correct?”

“Two shots to the head, sir,” Nali answers, sniffling, and smiling.

“Very good. Yes. This dagger has a kill shot as well.”

She backs away enough to show him that he has her attention, and he smiles at her, and his smile feels like it may have belonged to Brendol at some time. He feels Brendol with them – in the room, maybe beside him, but Hux feels no fear. He doesn’t see Brendol bleeding, or gurgling, in his periphery. He just… _feels_ Brendol presence, or memory with him, guiding him. Brendol was no sweet cherub, no quiet blessing, but he wasn't some horrible demonic force either; he was a flawed, scared person. And he's been a ghost for far too long - now, though, Hux feels Brendol, not as a ghost, but as a helping hand, as a comforting presence - as a brother.

He feels his brother with him, and it helps.

He instructs Nali to hold the dagger’s handle, then takes her arm, and mimics what arm movement it would take to throw it properly, as he has often done in the past.

“Like I taught you with a punch during sparring – all of that energy comes from the opposite leg. If you throw the dagger with your right hand, start gathering energy in your left foot, let it travel through to your arm, raise your forearm, blade facing back, bend your wrist back as far it will go, and then throw your arm, and hand forward. Aim for the center of the head – the frontal lobe. This dagger is long enough that, if you throw it with enough force, it will penetrate even the central sulcus. It is a particular fold in the cerebral cortex that keeps the parietal lobe divided from the frontal lobe, and the primary motor cortex from the primary somatosensory cortex. It’s an immediate kill, if done correctly.”

She nods, wipes at her tears with the back of her free wrist, and says, “how will I ever express to you my thanks?”

“I did not give this to you for gratitude, so think no more on that,” Hux tells her.

She hugs him again, and he smiles down at her hair, wondering if this is what it is to be golden. If this is what it means to be human; if this is what it means to be Aurelien.

He looks in the archway that separates his bedroom from the common area, and sees Phasma looking at him wistfully. He smiles back at her; they are both worried, but neither will own up to it. He’s fine with that; Hux has managed to make peace with a lot, this just one of many unspoken things.

He feels unsafe. This is not so uncommon, and he thinks this time, it will be temporary. That the day he longed for as a child – the day where he could paint, and draw, and keep droids, and pets of his own, in a house he designed – the day he could be free from it all – that day is not so far out of reach.

He can endure a little more uncertainty.

There is more than fear to be had – he has found that truth in Kylo Ren, of all the unlikely places.

Putting faith in someone else’s strategy is painfully difficult for him – something Phasma can tell from a distance. This case is particularly difficult, seeing as Hux barely understands the concepts being used in this strategy, not being a Force-user himself.

He needs to trust Kylo to protect him. To trust Kylo Ren with his life is the first trust he ever placed in the man – and at the time, he thought it was the height of all trust. Ren told him then and there that was untrue, but Hux couldn’t really see that until now.

He is trusting Kylo with his life, his safety, yes – but he is also trusting Kylo with his happiness, his future, his power, and all he has ever worked for, or wanted. Floating out into space without direction, into darkness, without anyone beside him sounds unwise, but he is putting his faith in Ren.

Ren is going to spend the next two cycles building something like force-fields around children all with delusions of grandeur, focusing his energies on making them all invisible to someone Hux has always known to be omnipotent.

But, if there is someone in the galaxy who would find Hux were they soul mates in an impossible reality, Ren would be that someone. If there is someone in the universe who could blaze a pathway to, and build, an afterlife, out of sheer want for one, Ren would be that someone. And if there is someone in the universe capable of holding the terrible weight of Hux’s nonexistent soul in their bloody hands, that someone would be Ren, and Hux would kiss every finger of those bloody hands for all the impossibilities they would construct, just for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, the school year has started and I have been inunDATED WITH WORK, but I swear, the upcoming chapters are also in progress and I'll try to post more regularly. Hope you enjoyed the update!
> 
> "Melanie, is Kylo taking on way too much and spreading himself too thin by extending his powers over so much space and so many people????"  
> Maybe!  
> "Melanie, will the rest of Part 4 be switching POVs between Hux and Kylo???"  
> Yes!  
> "Melanie, two cycles is like 52 hours on Aurora! Something bad can happen within that timeframe! What if something bad happens before Kylo even gets to Tython???"  
> What if!!  
> "Melanie, are you going to marry your Research Methods in Psychology professor???"  
> Idk but I'm trying!!!  
> "Melanie, will there be more porn???"  
> Yes!  
> "Melanie, whaT ABOUT THE RING???"  
> WHAT ABOUT THE RING INDEED  
> "Melanie, whaT IF SNOKE COMES LOOKING FOR ONE OF THEM???"  
> WHAT IF INDEED  
> "Melanie, Nali is too sweet to be in the First Order what are you doing???"  
> Nah, brah! Nali is over-emotional and just right for extremist groups!  
> "Melanie, Kylo's plan sounds dangerous!!! To literally everyone involved!!!"  
> It certainly does!  
> "Melanie, you promise there will be more porn???"  
> I do!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: there is mention of child death and child abuse in this chapter and Nali's memory of Amavia's death is seen from Haas's POV; basically, lots of pain and death in this chapter. 
> 
> The "poem," Hux refers to is the song "Black and Gold," by Sam Sparro (a personal klyux song of mine ;D)

An obsidian bowl is piled with smooth, palm stones, all apparently stolen from a temple on Malachor. The bowl is then filled with boiling water; steam billows out from the bowl, and quickly fills Hux’s quarters like a fog. Haas is dressed in Hux’s uniform – it is a little ill-fitting, he looks much too young in it, and Hux doesn’t appear to like sharing his clothes. He seems uncomfortable with it all, but the sharing of his uniform seems to irk him in particular.

Kylo thinks that’s strange, remembering how he has borrowed Hux’s clothes in the past, and Hux never seemed to mind.

It takes him a moment to realize that he is different from the rest now.

That he has been different from the rest for a while.

Perhaps, from the start.

Acknowledging how long he has been different in Hux’s eyes twists a knife in his chest, reminding him of how he _came_ to know that.

He looks to Hux, wanting Hux’s eyes on him, maybe to apologize again, or just share his emotional output, but Hux is watching over Nali and Haas as they drink the herbal tea Kylo has concocted for them. He doesn’t appear to feel Kylo’s stare on him. He must be troubled, and distracted, as he is usually much to sharp to ignore something like the pressure of a gaze.

Jardom sits next to Nali, watching her closely. Nali is dressed in some of Kylo’s old robes, which are _definitely_ ill-fitting. She is much too small in them, and they pool around her like she might be melting into the floor.

Once the tea is finished, Kylo sits down across from Haas and Nali, explaining what’s about to be done, warning them that the tea will soon render them highly suggestible, and sleepy.

“It will feel like being put under twilight sedation. You’ll be semi-aware of what’s happening around you, but your body will be in a form of paralysis. I’m going to clear your minds of debris first, to make room for the reality I'm about to insert. I should warn you that this may cause some memory loss. I doubt anything serious will be lost, though.”

Very suddenly, Haas’s energy is pulling at Kylo’s – it’s an unfamiliar sensation, as usually Haas’s energy is pushing _away_ at Kylo’s. He looks to the blonde boy, finds him already staring, but his mouth is a thin, grim line.

Kylo’s eyes bore into Haas’s, but the boy doesn’t so much as flinch.

_What are you concerned I will find, Naos Haas?_

_I am without shame. There are memories I would like taken from me. Can you do that?_

Caught off-guard by the request, Kylo tilts his head; this draws attention to their silent conversation. Everyone knows they’re silently speaking to one another.

Sensing his channel to Hux being plucked at like a strung instrument, Kylo opens himself to it, and hears Hux’s voice, curious, but still emotionally removed. Distant.

_What is Haas saying to you?_

_It might be a sensitive matter._

_Since when have you cared about Haas’s privacy?_

_I don’t want to repeat my mistakes, Hux._

Hux knows what Kylo means by that, replying anyway _, that’s different. You’re not supposed to keep things from **me**. We’re **supposed** to gossip. I’m your –_

_My what?_

Walls coated with thin ice instinctively start forming where Kylo is prodding, rapidly building on themselves to hide away, or protect, whatever Hux doesn’t want him to have. Kylo doesn’t feel deserving, or owed, Hux’s private thoughts, but can’t help to wonder what exactly Hux thinks of him as; would Hux ever say “lover?” What would the word “boyfriend,” sound like in Hux’s tone of voice? Would it be demeaning, or sarcastic? Would that even be close to the truth?

 _My fiancé?_ Kylo asks.

He sees Hux’s face redden, then Hux promptly shuts him out, cuts off their channel, and looks down to the floor.

Kylo would worry over it more, but he doesn’t have the time.

_That was a story **he** wanted to tell me. I shouldn’t have taken that from him._

There are a lot of things Kylo shouldn’t have taken from Hux, but did anyway.

To escape the onslaught of guilt, Kylo turns his focus back onto Haas. He shuts his eyes, extends his hand loosely, certain that Haas won’t fight him, and plunges into Haas’s mind – it’s messier than he imagined it to be. Thoughts scattered over acres of blank canvas, without direction, categorization, and faded understandings of where they’d begun.

Kylo sees memories of Haas biting at his nails, and pulling at the skin beneath them until blood appears; Haas seems to still engage in this compulsive behavior. His nail beds often ache, it seems, when he does something as simple as tug his uniform jacket down, or buckle his belts. His fingertips are sensitive from his repetitive chewing.

Kylo sees a flower, dehydrated, and kept in a silver cigarra case Haas stole from an upper-class cigar and cigarra shop. Kylo can tell that Haas has never smoked; all that has ever been in the silver tin is the dehydrated flower. It means something to him. He cannot bear to be parted with it. The tin is in the waistband of his underwear now.

There is more – much more – Haas running, quick as lightning, too thin, too pale - Haas looking in bathroom mirrors, and pulling on his lower eyelids to better examine the oddity of his irises. There is a baby crying, a woman screaming at him, and him screaming back until his voice is hoarse. Kylo sees him breaking fine china, punching holes in walls, screaming at a woman with eyes and a nose like his own.

Haas appears to suffer from explosive bursts of anger, obsessive compulsive tendencies, perfectionism, and intrusive thoughts of violence that make him uncomfortable in his own skin.

The perfectionism isn’t surprising, but there is a tone to it in his head that is unlike the one he gives off on the physical plane. Rather than following a string, as he could in Nali’s more organized mind, going through Haas’s mind is like digging through unlabeled boxes. Intuition is his guide, and when he starts pulling the memories out like jewelry knotted together after being packed carelessly, it all comes tumbling out.

Chronology seems to escape Haas – he doesn’t remember most of his childhood. A tragic feeling of unrest blankets the idea of ‘childhood,’ but very few specific memories come to his disposal.

He was abused, but doesn’t remember most of it, and has no desire to. He recalls being embarrassed as a very young child, going to school with chunks of his hair missing, and bruises mapped out over his body.

He had a little sister he saw beaten to death by their father; he lied to authorities about the events proceeding her death to protect his father, despite not wanting to lie. Despite having loved his sister.

He doesn’t remember what he said to the authorities, and he doesn’t remember mourning his sister. He remembers that she was four standard years old when she expired, mostly nude on the tiled floor of the foyer, and that she died from blunt force trauma to the head. His mother had been home the whole time. He thought she’d wake up – his mother knew. His mother knew she was dying on the floor, and she did nothing. She would let Haas’s father kill them all.

After his sister’s death, he often worried he was not so far behind.

Esli was her name; she wore lacy, threadbare dresses, had long blonde hair like his, and used to hug his leg. He is unsure if he ever loved her. Kylo thinks the emotion spun around this little girl _is_ love, but Haas can’t identify it. Haas has had too few experiences with love, it seems, to know what it is without second-guessing himself. He wouldn’t be able to bear facing his love for her now, though, anyway. He will likely continue to think he never loved her, as a way to cope with having lost her.

It would appear that once Esli was gone, Haas became the only target of his father’s rage; Haas first ran away from home at around ten standard years old – he ran away five times before his parents resolved to send him to the Academy. The third time was the only time he was grateful to be found – he’d nearly been trafficked, and was publicly mocked as he returned home, scantily clad – the bruises shown on his pale skin were blamed on the alien men handling him at auction. He didn’t bother correcting anyone. He felt very sure that no one would do anything about it, even if he voiced fear for his life.

His parents thought it punishment, but Haas blossomed at the Academy, and when he learned about General Hux, it was first through another classmate that said they heard a rumor that General Hux was forced to kill his brother to attend the Academy, how universally admired he is among all those in the First Order, and Haas began collecting a mental record of Hux. He obsessively hunted down every scrap of information he could find about Hux – he couldn’t decide if he was in love with Hux, or wanted to _be_ Hux.

He spent countless hours looking through data files, admiring Hux, often staring at one holophoto for minutes at a time, following every line of Hux’s face, and thinking that if Hux could survive such atrocities and flourish, then he could too. Hux was a flame of hope in an otherwise dark, lonely world for Haas. Haas has always loved Hux – as an icon, as a friend he never had who kept him company on the hardest nights, a mentor that insisted _yes, he can_ when he was so sure he couldn’t take anymore - Hux was _hope_.

He wished to meet Hux – he wished he could be strong as Hux someday, to have the honor of standing beside Hux, and being of some worth. He wanted a legacy, and legend of his own, to rise from the ashes like a phoenix, red, rare, and _special_ as Hux, and he thought that if he could meet General Hux, win his favor – even just meet eyes with him for a moment, that he could die peacefully, and without regret.

 _What would General Hux do?_ was a question Haas often asked himself before facing some great combat trial.

Haas was well-liked among his classmates at the Academy. He had a few bullies; people that called him “odd eye,” and insisted that having opposing eye colors was bad luck, and would bring bad fortune to look into. Most of his classmates knew it was nonsense, but there were still some that made life more difficult for him than it already was.

Kylo sees more nail-biting, skin peeling, hair plucking, and he hears children daring each other, and setting wagers – who would dare to look into Haas’s eyes for longer than a count of ten? Who would risk their wellness? _Odd Eye, Odd Eye, Odd Eye…_

He dated the only red-headed boy in his grade, knowing full well what he was doing; this red-headed boy, though, was no General Hux. He was soft – softer than Haas had known life to be. He resented that. He thought it pity, the way that boy would look at him with glittering eyes, and blushing cheeks. That boy died during The Culling, in a different squadron. By then, Haas was away from himself. Too much so to mourn that boy, or even investigate what happened to him. That boy may have loved Haas, but Haas doesn't let himself think about it.

There are tattered memories of Nali – things that Haas made attempts to burn from his skull, but the important parts linger. He recalls studying with Nali, being thrilled when she would look him in the eye without fear while conversing, laughing with her, speaking well of her to his higher-ups, taking to Amavia quickly, and envying their ability to love each other so easily. There were times he wanted for all of Nali’s attention, but never asked for it. He cared about her.

He still does.

Fascinated by the bleeding sensation of Haas’s affection for Nali, Kylo tosses that box upside down, and what comes falling out is familiar scenery of The Culling.

_Settled in their hand-dug trenches, Haas’s squadron ate their dinners, and while half the squadron slept, the other half stayed up to watch over them in shifts. Haas knew Hux had been a squadron leader in his graduating class – he was honored to share the same title, but nervous, too, that he would fall short. That someone would see the bruises on him that no longer painted his skin, see handprints on him that weren’t there anymore, and they’d know he’s too weak._

_He couldn’t even protect Esli._

_He shook his head, trying to shake the image of her sweet, but malnourished face from his mind, and only managing to conjure the image of her limp body on the floor._

_His head throbbed with oncoming pain associated with uncovering memories of his past. Whenever he does remember something, he immediately blocks it. He doesn’t mean to, and it happens to this day. He chases after the memories like one might give chase after waking from a dream, but the faster he chases it, the further from him it gets._

_Leaning against the trunk of that tree, trying desperately to not think about Esli’s body, Haas refused to be disposable. Even if it’s only long enough to see General Hux with his own eyes – he **will** be worth something. Imagining General Hux relaxed Haas, and he nearly dozed off until Nali kicked his leg – he blinked rapidly, and then gave her a faltering, fatigued smile. He knew it didn’t meet his eyes, but he couldn’t fake it. He was tired._

_“Only two more days,” Nali reassured him, “Two more days, and we’ll be out of here, taking our written finals, and then graduating. We are so close to the finish line.”_

_He nodded to her, unable to heap the weight of his dead sister onto her, unable to tell her that his sadness and anxiety had little to do with The Culling, and much more to do with the cage his own mind built around itself. He chewed at his nails, picked at his skin, and then Nali mentioned that Amavia was talking in her sleep._

_Haas took one look at Amavia, irritated skin from under his thumbnail between his teeth, and knew she was not asleep._

_“She’s awake,” Haas told Nali, fear creeping up his spine, a feeling of impending danger settling in his chest, “She’s talking to herself.”_

_“That’s unlike her,” Nali said softly._

_“How… how well would you say you know Amavia?”_

_“Better than anyone,” Nali claimed assuredly, “We’re connected at the hip, you know.”_

_“Yes,” Haas smiled weakly again, “Yes, I know.”_

_“ **What** do **you** know,” Amavia muttered hatefully, loud enough for Haas and Nali to hear it._

_Haas turned his head to her, and his heart sank when he found her pupil-less eyes staring back at him._

**_She hasn’t eaten this cycle_** _, Haas recalls – he had offered Amavia her share of rations earlier, but she said her stomach was upset with stress, and to give it to someone else. He had._

**_She might be dehydrated_** _, Haas thought._

_“I – my canteen is still full. Would you like for me to pass it to you? I don’t mind sharing if you don’t.”_

_“ **Sharing**?” Amavia hissed, eyes narrowing, “What do **you** know about **sharing** , Naos?”_

_Haas looked nervously to Nali, but Nali’s eyes were glued onto Amavia. He swallowed roughly, and looked back at her, answering, “…not a lot.”_

_“That’s right. You’re an only child come from privilege, and are only here to feed your **narcissism** , and **sociopathy** , so stop **pretending** like you know anything –"_

_“Ama!” Nali interrupted, standing in time with some concerned on-lookers, Haas, and Amavia, “Naos is our friend – don’t call him such ugly things.”_

_Amavia glared at Haas, began insisting that Nali should have been squadron leader, and she and Haas both knew it to be true. That he would guide them all to a terrible demise – her yelling was briefly silenced by a dangerous, feral growl from deeper in the darkened woods._

_Amavia looked over her shoulder in fear, then back at Haas with even more anger, as if he himself sicced the beast upon them._

_She started talking about how he has never known struggle, he is no friend to her, was a bad omen from the start, and that she never wanted this. She never wanted to go to the Academy, she only followed Nali there, because she was so certain they were meant to be together, but **he’s** gotten in the way._

**_She is jealous_** _, Haas realized, looking into her angry, shining eyes, **She thinks I want to steal Nali away.**_

_Haas had to admit to himself that Amavia was partially right – he did want Nali’s friendship and attention, but he never wanted to hurt either of them. He would never intentionally come between them. No matter his claims of sincerity, Haas could not calm Amavia down. Her accusations only grew more outrageous and enraged._

_Then, she started in on Nali, telling Nali that she was consumed by vengeance, and no mother, father, or Godparents could ever take pride in her for what she was pursuing, and why. Haas nearly cursed at Amavia for speaking ill of Nali, but Nali stopped him._

_“Haas – we must have gotten the poisoned meal,” Nali told him._

_“But, she didn’t –"_

_Haas took one look at Nali’s panicked expression, and his heart broke._

_She looked so sure. She wanted to believe so badly that these weren’t Amavia’s true colors._

_Amavia called what Nali thought of righteousness, 'vindictiveness,' and she referred to what Nali thought of growth, as 'cowardice.'_

_She thought terribly of Haas, she loved Nali, but hated how Nali behaved, and if all of that were true, life would be so bleak._

_If this was the reality Nali wanted, then Haas wanted Nali to believe this was fictional, to have her fantasy. He didn’t want her to know the ugly truth. He could keep this secret, for Nalli's sake. So, he made no mention that Amalia could not have eaten the poisoned meal, as she had not eaten at all that day - instead, he nodded, and said, “yes. It must have been her ration.”_

_Once they were in agreement that Amavia had so clearly consumed the poisoned meal, the squadron broke out into whispered debate – Amavia was good with sharpened weapons, which she was armed to the teeth with. She threatened anyone that stepped close to her, and Haas rapidly lost control of the situation._

_He kept looking to Nali, asking her what to do, and Nali tried her best to calm Amavia down – Haas and Nali both could hear their classmates behind them, conspiring to kill Amavia to shut her up._

_Several cadets circled Haas, pressuring him to do something, and to do that something quickly. Amavia **screamed** at Haas – he and all the other cadets felt instant terror, knowing what beast was chasing them would certainly locate them now. _

_She screamed at him that he didn’t deserve his militant status, that he was “spineless,” and “spoiled.” He was speechless; mostly because he agreed with her. He knew she wasn’t under the influence of artificial hysteria – her rage was real, and he was the only one who knew. He tried to keep Amavia’s fire directed at him, speaking up when Amavia would shout her fury at Nali; he didn’t want Amavia’s words to hurt Nali anymore than they already had._

_Dripping with sweat, pale, and nervous, and surrounded by conflicted parties, Haas looked at Nali with panic one more time before Amavia took the opening of his distracted sight to attack him._

_He saw her in his periphery, and readied himself into a fighting stance as he would during intensive combat training. He bent at the knees, he focused his energies, but soon enough, they wound up in a ground fight._

_He managed to pull one of her knives off her, and he intentionally stuck her where he knew she would bleed out quickly._

_She gasped above him, and he removed the knife, moved it further up her ribcage, and punctured her again, and he stabbed her a third time, all knowingly fatal wounds. He could have stopped himself at any time. He’s sure he could have stopped. He doesn’t know why he didn’t._

_His hands shook as he did it; he knew he was killing her. He was_ **murdering** _her. He was_ **murdering** _Amavia, and she knew it too; their eyes mirrored each other, and she was so breathless with shocked betrayal. Then, Amavia’s eyes filled with tears._

_Haas felt like crying too, but couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. He couldn’t tell anymore. He felt numb, far away from himself, unsure of who he is, or has ever been. He felt hollow. Like an imitation of what he once tried to be. He could only think of protecting Nali, and **what would General Hux do?**_

_Nali cradled Amavia, petting back her sweat-dampened hair, whispering sweetly to her, but Amavia would not welcome the comfort. She hissed angry, hateful things, and writhed uncontrollably – Nali cried, begging her not to say these things, begging her to please try to breathe, and they would find a way to cauterize the wound, and Haas stopped listening._

_He had killed Amavia, and he couldn’t understand why Amavia wasn’t telling Nali what she knew to be true; she saw Haas as he has always seen himself. She sees the weakness, the bruises, the panic. She sees him for the fearful, hateful thing he’s always believed himself to be, and he killed her._

_Haas remembers little else about The Culling. He remembers Nali helping him as a co-commander through it all, looking in her eyes, and thinking they looked lifeless – she was in something worse than mourning. Because there was no time for grief._

_He remembers her wild upset after The Culling – he’s got some trouble with his kidneys, and has since childhood. He thinks it might have something to do with his father having always beaten his sides – he was in and out of hospitals a lot. He was just leaving the infirmary after being treated for a growing crystal, when Nali confronted him in the hall. She shouted that Amavia was not the one with the poisoned ration and **how could he let this happen**?_

**_Protect her_** _, Haas thought, numb and hollow, ready to surrender Nali as he has surrendered most comforts in his life, **Let her hate you. If she knew you had already known the truth when you killed Amavia, she’d never forgive you anyway. Let her hate you. Give her this. You’ve taken away her love and you’re awful at sharing. Release her.** _

_He bit some words at her that he didn’t believe himself; words he knew would incite her. And they did; the two of them wound up throwing punches, and were broken apart by nearby adults._

_When they arrived on **Aurora** , Haas felt a glimmer of happiness for the first time in a long, long time. To have General Hux looking him in his mismatched eyes, his Odd Eyes, his bad luck charms – how General Hux looked into them so fearlessly, told him he would put his **faith** in Haas…_

_Haas would have wept if he weren’t so numb._

_When made to choose among his classmates, he intentionally lied about Nali. He didn’t want her aboard – he didn’t want to have to face her every cycle, a constant, magenta reminder of his failings, of his weakness, of who he couldn’t save, or wouldn’t save. He knew he was crushing a long dream of hers, but he couldn’t reconcile seeing her everyday. And he **needed** this. He **needed** General Hux – he needed **Aurora**. Nali could go on elsewhere. She had promise, she had good luck, she had beautiful eyes, she had love in her heart - she had all he didn't. Without Hux, without **Aurora** , Haas would feel orphaned, too full of suicidal hate to go on._

_It’s why he panicked when he saw her in the cafeteria. He thought for a quick moment that she might be a hallucination._

_He missed her._

_He often watched how well she and Jardom got along, and envied them. He hated Kylo Ren for all the attention General Hux gave him. Kylo Ren was not of the First Order – Haas felt gipped. He felt swindled. If he had known there were other ways of working for General Hux – if he had ever thought he could be someone else, or something other than what the Order made him… he would have pursued it._

_When Kylo left for training, Haas’s wishes came to fruition; Nali’s appearances were scarce, as she was so often spending time with Jardom, and there was no one to take General Hux’s attention away. He worked personally for Hux, they spoke together over meals, and Haas learned so much from Hux. He only came to admire Hux more, and more, as time wore on._

_When they sparred, Hux would sometimes call him ‘Naos,’ casually, as though they could be friends, as though he was something of worth, and when Hux asked him about his family structure, he said, “I have a mother, and father, somewhere. I don’t know. They haven’t been in contact for years now. I had a sister too, once.”_

_Hux had looked at him plainly, and he thought maybe Hux saw the bruises, saw the clumps of missing hair, saw him thin, and weak, and damaged – but then Hux said, “I had a brother once.”_

_Haas’s heart had skipped a beat. He wished it were okay to touch the General, to hug him, but he dared not even ask. He instead asked, “sir, may I ask - why is the missile project called_ **Black and Gold** _?”_

_Hux had cocked a brow at him, smiling just barely, a twinkle in his eye._

_“There is a poem by the same title I'm fond of. A certain verse of it reads;_

_I look up into the night sky,_

_I see a thousand eyes staring back._

_And all around these golden beacons,_

_I see nothing but black._

_I feel the weight of something beyond them._

_I don't see what I can feel._

_But if vision is the only validation,_

_Then most of my life isn't real._

_'Cause if you're not really here,_

_Then the stars don't even matter._

_Now I'm filled to the top with fear,_

_That it's all just a bunch of matter._

_'Cause if you're not really there,_

_Then I don't want be either._

_I want to be next to you._

_Black and gold,_

_Black and gold,_

_Black and gold.”_

_Haas’s chest constricted for a brief moment, before he asked, “…they are for Kylo Ren, aren’t they?”_

_Hux’s eyes widened a little, and his ears turned red._

_“Why would you draw that conclusion?”_

_“That’s what he wore, isn’t it? When he saved you?”_

_Haas started compulsively picking at his nails, hating that he already knew the answer, hating how he could picture the first time he saw Kylo Ren’s face the cycle of the gala, dressed like nobility. Looking so natural next to Hux, like he always had a place there. As though he deserved Hux’s attention more than Haas, who had climbed an impossible mountain just for the chance to meet Hux’s eyes._

_He met those eyes again, tilted his head, and asked, “black and gold, right?”_

_Even flustered, Hux was handsome._

_“…yes. Right.”_

_Haas nodded._

_For a fleeting moment, Haas did not feel so alone, but it was immediately followed by the certainty that he does not belong here. That he could never be whatever it is that made Kylo Ren so special._

_He is remarkable, but not remarkable enough. He is left to the wayside. Always. Jardom and Nali have each other, and he is glad Nali is far from him – he is frightened of hurting her. That he might instinctively harm her beyond repair like he did to Amavia. He drives her away whenever she tries to get close._

He is in pain even now, sitting next to her.

Kylo draws his hand back, and opens his eyes to Haas’s now sleepy stare.

_If you told her, she would understand. She would forgive you._

_I don’t want forgiveness. I want relief._

Kylo senses flashbacks to other bursts of violent anger – the explosive anger Haas sometimes has that reminds him of his father. Bloody knuckles beating into walls, breaking glasses, bending metal, whipping dense chains in the gym just to feel something like power. Something like control. For a moment. The intrusive thoughts that make him feel like slime might be dripping under his skin – thoughts he can’t control, thoughts that border on obsessive, but disturb, and frighten him. He is trapped in his own mind.

_I cannot rid you of your aggressions. What memory would you like for me to wipe?_

_I’m not sure… what would you recommend?_

_Your sister._

Flashes of the dehydrated flower come to Haas’s frontal lobe – a memory of her running through sunlight, a breeze in the air – their father was away on business. Their mother was sedated on the couch. Haas would lift Esli on his shoulders, so she could reach the cabinets full of food – it was the weekends their father spent away they’d eat to their hearts’ content, forget pain for a while. And they’d play.

Haas was often a princess, as King Esli insisted upon it. She would stick flowers in his hair and save him from invisible dragons.

She gave him a tiara of flowers maybe three weeks before she died. When the braided stems, and colorful petals began to die, he panicked, took one out from the crown, and pressed it between the pages of a stolen book until it was flat, dark, and fragile. Then he stole the tin, and has kept it ever since.

_Not her. I don’t – I can’t. Not her._

Reluctant to say so, Kylo feels the need to;

_I think you want for me to erase **you**. There is not one memory I felt you particularly wanted to let go of, Naos. You want them all to be gone._

_…yes. Yes, maybe._

Kylo nods, and says out loud, “we will come to an arrangement when I return.”

Haas looks surprised; he feels this is a mercy Kylo is giving to him without feeling pity from Kylo’s end. He appreciates it.

Kylo has to wonder what may have happened if he’d not fixated on Hux when he had; what chances Haas may have had to win Hux’s affections. He hates admitting it to himself, but Haas may have had a chance.

Given enough time, enough privacy – he may have been able to share himself with Hux, and Hux… maybe he would have shared himself too. Maybe they would have comforted each other; Haas is more similar to Hux than Kylo had ever truly known. Maybe they would have made a better fit, despite the age difference.

Looking up to Hux, Kylo finds he’s still not looking back. His eyes feel hot. He wants to be alone with Hux again. He wants to kiss Hux, hold Hux, tell Hux all that Hux means to him in this universe. He wants Hux sprawled, and naked on the bed, he wants Hux gasping, and laughing, and biting at his neck, and lower lip with canines sharper than average. He wants to hear Hux sing again, wants to watch Hux draw again, wants to hold Hux while they dance again – he wants so, so much, and deserves none of it.

It’s difficult to confront the fact that Kylo may have just been lucky with his timing. It’s difficult to accept the truth that infinite possibilities were presented to Hux – that Kylo was only one of so many.

A painful thought descends on him then.

 _Does he feel trapped? Does he feel cornered by me?_ Kylo worries suddenly, the fever from behind his eyes spreading down his neck,

Everything would have been so much easier with anyone else. Hux would have been safer, saner – maybe more comfortable. Maybe happier.

_Am I what he really wants? Or has he just accepted me like he has oblivion?_

Kylo swallows roughly, staring at Hux’s long figure leaning against the wall, his ice-blue eyes downcast, and distracted.

_Why… does he feel so distant now?_

When Kylo tries to open their channel again, Hux not only pulls back from it, but shakes his head, and leaves the room. Kylo’s heart sinks, and he doesn’t see Phasma’s expression before she’s gone after Hux into the hall.

He needs to focus on readying Nali and Haas’s minds. He can’t worry over Hux yet – he can’t close the distance between them. He isn’t even sure why the chasm is there, but he feels it. He feels Hux withdrawing, and he is desperately frightened that the times he has touched Hux have been the last – that the kiss Hux allowed might be the last Hux allows him to give at all.

He shuts his eyes, breathes in deeply, and tells himself to focus on the plan. He can’t get distracted – not when there is so much to be done. Not when he needs to protect Hux still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Melanie, Haas seems like a super fucked up person???"  
> He certainly does!  
> "Melanie, I don't know how to feel about Haas anymore! Do I feel bad???"  
> I don't know! People are complicated, everyone (especially in this fic) has trauma and they all handle it differently! Whether you think Haas is worth forgiveness or not is totally up to you! You might also come to the conclusion that Haas is just a morally ambiguous character that might not necessarily be 'good' or 'bad' in the spectrum of characters presented!  
> "Melanie, Hux really named his missile project in honor of Kylo???"  
> Yes, he did! Because he has a big gay crush on Kylo! There's tons of symbolism stuffed in there! Feel free to scrutinize!  
> "Melanie, why is Hux being so cold and distant??? What's wrong???"  
> What's wrong indeed!  
> "Melanie, the porn -"  
> Yes, there will be more porn lmao


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Trigger Warnings for this chapter!

Once unconscious with shifted, strange auras conflicting with their natural ones, Nali and Haas are laid into place like dolls; Haas is carried into Hux’s bed by Jardom. Haas’s thoughts are static, quiet, orderly, and mostly unaware, much like Nali’s will be shortly.

Nali is only awake longer, because she is forced to sit up with pretzeled legs, and open palms over her knees, to mimic Kylo’s meditative state. In one of her open palms, Kylo places the now very quiet ring.

“Lord Ren… what is this?” Nali asks curiously, staring down at the hand she can’t move.

“It is a ring. One I acquired while planet-side for Master Snoke. If he senses the ring on board, and in the hands of a sentient being that could be mistaken for me, he will not have so many suspicions. I am leaving it in your care for the time being.”

Nali nods, and then stares into Kylo’s eyes resolutely.

“You are very sad… why?”

Nali is either very insightful, or Kylo is wearing his emotions too boldly. He’d like to think it’s the former, but it’s likely the latter. She will be unconscious very soon, and he doubts she’ll remember this anyway, so he thinks there’s no harm in telling her the truth. Someone may as well know.

“I have given Hux very little but fear for me, in all the time I’ve known him,” Kylo admits shamefully, “I’m worried he regrets me. Or worse – that he has plainly accepted me, as some sort of inevitability – that he has not chosen me, but… is _resigned_ to me. He has drawn away from me, and… I don’t know how to fix it. I’ve never cared about a person like this… or at all. I don’t know how to bridge this chasm.”

Nodding in understanding, Nali’s eyes droop low, and Kylo sighs. He runs a hand through his hair, looks away, and tells her, “you know, if I were an ordinary man, I would marry him, find him or build him a home… make a quiet life with him.”

“You should be thankful that this is not the case.”

Glancing up, Kylo realizes Nali has fallen unconscious now, and the voice that spoke has come from Jardom. He looks up at the boy. His expression is certain, and he exudes an air of loyalty, and reliability. Kylo has always liked Jardom.

“You should be thankful that you are no ordinary man,” Jardom clarifies, “General Hux could never come to care so deeply for a man ordinary.”

The thought only circles in Kylo’s head like water around a drain, but he inevitably hears it; _I don’t know that he cares so deeply, or in the same way that I do – I may have given him no choice in the matter._

He remembers how tightly both Hux’s hands covered his mouth before he had the chance to vocalize what he’s wanted to, for longer than he first realized. He remembers the desperate tone of Hux’s, “ _don’t_.”

_He has never told me in so many words, that he returns my feelings this way, and he can’t even seem to bear the thought of it… so I cannot know with all certainty._

Crouching behind her, Jardom loosens Nali’s ponytail, and runs his fingers through her long tresses. He smiles at the back of her head, and a memory is thrust into Kylo’s head.

_A teacher is speaking. Nali argues a very controversial point, makes a good case, and the teacher is resentful of her for it. Jardom sits behind her, thinking of how brilliant she is, and how brave she must be to buck authority in an environment like the Academy. He sets his chin in his hand, and stares dreamily at the way her ponytail swings when she moves her head._

_He memorized the lines of her neck, and shoulders, the curves, and points, of her ears, the way the light from their classroom windows shone in her hair, and the small hairs at the base of her skull - all long before he was ever courageous enough to look her in the eye._

When Kylo meets Jardom’s eyes again, it appears as though Jardom knows he’s seen this memory, but he has no way of knowing that. Jardom is a sweet, but old, soul, it would seem.

“I… am not like you,” Jardom starts uneasily, touching at Nali’s hair, “I have never been extraordinary. Above average military school performance, but otherwise? I was never remarkable. I think that’s partially why I am so drawn to Nali. She has overcome so much… her heart should be something too small to see, but instead it’s this… it’s this enormous galaxy, ready to welcome all promise of goodness in people. She is alien to me… in more ways than one. She, and the General, have little in common but for their personal losses, I think.”

With no verbal response to prompt him to further the conversation, Kylo is intrigued that Jardom does, anyway. He smiles at Kylo, and continues, “warriors, eh? I am unlike you, unlike the General, unlike Nali… yet here we are. Both drawn to beacons of resilience. I would like to have a family with Nali. I would like to marry her as well – I would like to provide for her, heal her in times of illness, support her in all her endeavors - all that will surely lead to the greatness she has long deserved. I want to know her pain as well as I’ve come to know her happiness. Spend the rest of my natural life beside her. I’ve come to believe you feel the same way about the General.”

Kylo’s heart skips a beat, and Jardom lowers his eyes to Nali’s shoulder, “you can’t imagine the General in the arms of another, can you? Can you imagine him marrying anyone else? Building a family with anyone else? Can you imagine that anyone would, or could, take better care of him than you? Rationally, you and I can accept that there are likely better fits for our precious ones out in the galaxy… but wouldn’t it pain you beyond known pain to surrender him?”

“Yes,” Kylo answers quietly, unable to mask his astonishment at Jardom’s maturity, “Everything you’ve said… it’s all true.”

“He is likely just as lost as you are,” Jardom offers kindly, “The General has not navigated woods like these before; he doesn’t precisely have a reputation for acquiring emotional attachments. Mind his impossible, improbable heart as you press into the unknown. Nali may have room enough for the galaxy in hers, but the General has room for very few, and he has elected to keep your company. It means something. Patience is key.”

A word Kylo hates, but has come to know well. He’s opening his mouth, about to respond, when Jardom adds something curious.

“Digging for gold requires patience.”

Kylo looks up at the boy, but he’s still distracted with combing through Nali’s hair with gentle fingers.

“Wading through cold waters, mud, muck, carving space into the soil tirelessly, until there’s just a glimmer – just a small something. I saw gold, and wanted for it, but it was not my time. It was not for me. It was enough to give me hope, though. Sometimes I would lie awake at night, thinking of her – how I could not have her, how I wanted for her happiness, and so stayed away, but how… by just existing, she gave me hope for more. That there are gems, crystals, elements, and promises, I’ve yet to see the brilliance of. I still treasured her, even when she was so far from me, she was just a yellow shine in the distance. And, now… to have her look at me, and speak to me as she does, to be given the chance to treasure her as I’ve so wanted to… it’s like a dream. You and the General have probably waited your entire lives to see gold like that. Haven’t you?”

Picking his head up again, Jardom meets Kylo’s wide stare, and he nods, seeing he’s hit some invisible mark.

“I waited over seven standard years to speak to Nali. Your precious one is just outside, moments from you, wants for your words, and eyes, and reassurances. Go to him, and be thankful you are not something ordinary. Neither of you are.”

“That is sage advice,” Kylo notes lowly, “How old are you, exactly, Jardom?”

With a shy smile, Jardom replies, “twenty-two standard years, Lord Kylo Ren.”

“You’re not as ordinary as you may have been lead to believe, Jardom.”

There’s a proud glitter in Jardom’s eyes when he timidly looks away again.

Kylo stands, and says, “don’t let your eyes wander far from her.”

“Hmm,” Jardom half-laughs, “They never have.”

As Kylo stands to leave, Jardom adds quickly, as if losing bravery, “please, don’t repeat this, but… the General… he was… he was truly ruined in your absence. Wrecked. When you came onto the bridge, upon your arrival… his eyes have not had so much color in them for a long while.”

With a gentle pat to Jardom’s head as acknowledgment, Kylo swiftly moves past him, and leaves the room, more set now on seeing Hux than he was before. He has to look around for a short while, but, quickly enough, down a quiet corridor, he finds Phasma, and Hux, speaking privately. They both notice him as soon as he finds them, and he remains standing at the end of the hall.

Kylo looks to Phasma, and asks, “may I borrow him?”

Phasma and Hux exchange a quick glance, and then Phasma leaves them in neutral silence.

Even as she is gone, Kylo doesn’t move, too unsure of his welcome.

Hux is by the far wall, still not looking at him, and the corridor has never seemed so long before.

“Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Hux replies curtly.

“There is nothing in particular I want you to say. I only want you to speak freely in front of me.”

“Oh, as you have in front of me?”

Swallowing loudly, Kylo takes a few steps closer to Hux. He is relieved that Hux doesn’t move further away, but he doesn’t look at Kylo, or move closer to him either.

 _…this isn’t about Haas, is it?_ Kylo states more than asks.

_Brilliant deduction._

“…can I hold you, Hux?”

Finally looking at him, Hux has the most bizarre expression on his face. He seems halfway shocked, partially offended, and genuinely confused.

Hux doesn’t know that Kylo is familiar with his ice, and his fortresses, his jagged, sharp, outer armor – Hux doesn’t understand that he will gladly cut every inch of his skin to get closer to Hux. Kylo just isn’t sure how to say that.

“Why in the stars would you want to –"

“There are things that cannot be expressed in words. Even through shared thoughts, or transferred feelings. If you don’t want me to come close, I won’t. But I want to. I want to hold you.”

Assessing him warily, Hux eventually nods, and Kylo walks up to him. He stands before Hux for a few beats before moving his hands onto Hux’s waist, then slithering his arms around Hux’s frame, and bringing him in close. Hux is stiff for a few seconds, and Kylo is worried that Hux might pull away, or never fully meet his eyes again, but then Hux’s arms come to Kylo’s sides, and he grips gently at Kylo’s borrowed shirt.

Kylo’s chest rattles on the relieved exhale he lets out.

He turns his head against Hux’s, his lips close to Hux’s lashes.

“I may not be able to… destroy every trouble you face,” Kylo starts nervously, “but I will try. And, when I can’t… just let me bear the weight of it with you.”

Hux doesn’t respond.

“Please, tell me what’s happening.”

A surprised chill runs through Kylo’s back when he feels how Hux’s hands grip harder at the fabric of his shirt. He senses fear coming from Hux, shame, reluctance, and an equal desire to pull Kylo closer as there is to push him away. Hux tucks his face more into the crook of Kylo’s neck, hiding himself in a way, and he asks very quietly, “…I’m in grave danger. Aren’t I?”

Before Kylo’s mouth is even fully parted to answer, Hux inserts, “be honest, Ren.”

Shutting his mouth, Kylo presses his lips against Hux’s hair, reassesses, and answers carefully, “… I didn’t want to frighten you.”

“The silence frightens me more.”

“Yes,” Kylo answers, a hand coming to cradle the back of Hux’s head, “You’re in grave danger.”

Admitting it out loud makes something in Kylo’s stomach twist uncomfortably. He shuts his eyes, and breathes in Hux’s scent, trying to center himself.

“You’ve foreseen something,” Hux guesses.

Kylo only nods back.

“You’re not going to tell me what it is this time, though. It's not like the gala, somehow.”

“I…”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Kylo grimaces, and wishes, briefly again, that he might be an ordinary man, with ordinary problems. But if he were ordinary, he wouldn’t have Aurelien Hux in his arms, and that possible reality is simply unacceptable.

 _I’m sorry_ , Kylo sends him, _I don’t know how to proceed. You not knowing the details of my visions might protect you from focusing too much on them – if you do, and you allow the anxiety of that to disturb you, you’ll be a blinking light of heightened emotion on Master Snoke’s radar. I’m… I think keeping this knowledge from you is what will keep you safest. Do you understand?_

An anxiety-provoked throb of pain emanates from Hux’s skull, and Kylo moves away enough to examine the pallid tone of Hux’s skin.

“Your head hurts,” Kylo says gently, the hand that cupped the back of Hux’s head, now coming to brush back his fiery hair, “Let me heal you.”

Hux’s brow furrows, his eyes look sad, though. His anger is dampening like a wet cloth thrown over a budding flame. He shakes his head, and looks away again.

More distance.

Kylo’s heart sinks, and he remembers Jardom’s words; that Jardom advised that Hux would want for his reassurances, his words. Kylo is more used to smashing things apart to express intense emotion, or making trades of Angels, and building illusions to express sincerity, but for Hux, he can try his ill-equipped hand at words.

“… you know, I left you sleeping for myself.”

This draws Hux’s attention back to him – he’s still not looking Kylo in the eye, but he’s listening.

“I will be honest with you when I’m being selfish, and when I’m doing what I think is truly in your best interest. When I left _Aurora_ … the thought of having to look you in the eye, shake your hand, say ‘goodbye,’ and nothing else, never kiss you, hold you, and then turn my back…”

Kylo shakes his head, his breath catching a little, and he almost laughs at the influx of overwhelming sadness being recalled; he didn’t think retelling that day would cause him so much distress, but it does. His eyes are glassy.

“The thought of having to turn my back to you, and walk away… just put on my armor, apologize for being terrible at friendship, thank you for yours anyway, remind you to meditate, encourage you to go to the med bay the next your migraines came… then walk away? Just… feel your eyes on me as I left? I couldn’t bear it. I left you there, because I’m selfish, and you were right to hunt me down, and you were right to be furious with me. I would have destroyed the entire ship in my rage, had you been the one to do that to me.”

It’s this admission that makes Hux smirk hesitantly, and now his eyes finally move to Kylo’s. Icy blue, and piercing as always. Kylo’s heart throbs the way it always does – the way, he believes, it always will, when Hux looks at him.

He is reminded of walking through their illusion together a long time back, how Hux had initiated intimate touch – how he had laced their fingers together, and it had so shocked Kylo that he’d stopped in his tracks.

“When I got on that pod…”

 _No_ , Kylo thinks, _that’s not where it begins…_

“…I have never felt fully put together, Hux,” Kylo explains, feeling his face heat up, feeling bad already at something he’s barely attempted, “My mother used to say I ‘wasn’t fully cooked,’ – that’s what she’d say about my emotional development. Because I had outbursts, or had difficulty making friends. Because she didn’t understand me. She didn’t know how much self-doubt she was planting, and I hardly blame her for it, but that’s not the point. The point is, I’ve always felt like I’m some source of power – some big energy, surrounded by the floating, unattached satellites of my bones, and organs, but never pulled together. Never one, coherent, complete thing. You are so grounded – so sure of who you are, what you want, and you have always been that way. I admire it, envy it, and am in awe of it – I have known few certainties in my life. I can only wonder at how you can ascertain yours so quickly, and assuredly.”

Hux goes to speak, but Kylo touches at Hux’s lips with the pads of his fingers to stop him before he starts. Hux looks curiously down, going a little cross-eyed trying to wonder at Kylo’s hand, but Kylo doesn’t let it distract him.

“Let me finish,” Kylo requests.

Hux nods, and Kylo brushes Hux’s bottom lip with his thumb before taking his hand back.

“You emit power too, like I do, but you’re solid, you’re real, you’re strung together, something I can hang onto, and the – the _gravity_ of you – your _gravity_ … pulls me together. It joins my bones, it organizes my insides, lays down my veins like thread-work, and you are… _everything_. You’re my lungs expanding, my heart beating, my stomach turning at the thought of being away from you. You are everywhere – the air, the atmosphere, and I see you in everyone, and everything. When I left that day…”

Having Hux’s undivided attention can be a heady, empowering thing – particularly in times when Kylo feels raw, and vulnerable. It feels good to share this with Hux, though. It feels right. And the glowing, apparent emotion in Hux’s open eyes tell him he is doing this right.

“…I saw your crew members, and I thought, absurdly, that I’d _miss_ them. I wouldn’t miss them, though – I‘d miss _you_. They were an extension of _you_. I wasn’t going to miss _Aurora_ – she is just another extension of _you_ – all the meals I’ve had here, the droids I’ve become familiar with, the halls, and the sliding doors, the conference rooms, the bridges, the hangars, the crews – it was all _you_. The tags you gave me – they were a piece of you, and it’s what’s kept me in one piece all this time. I swear, my body would have fallen apart like a broken doll, and been lost in space forever, without direction, or cohesion, if I hadn’t had the weight of it on my chest like an anchor.”

Kylo takes Hux’s face in his hands, brings them close enough that they’re sharing the same air, they’re toe-to-toe, and Hux’s eyes are so near, Kylo could swear there’s a snowy breeze coming from them.

“I thought, as I boarded that pod – I thought of dancing with you. It was all I wanted to do,” Kylo admits, smiling sadly, eyes flickering between Hux’s, “I could hear orchestras, feel how your hands hold me together when they’re on me, and when we would spin… I didn’t feel like I’d fly off into innumerable shards, impossible to put back together. I felt _solid_ , and real, powerful, strung together enough to get caught up in your gravity, and it was like we were orbiting each other. I think… it’s why I feel like the universe has narrowed down to where only we exist in front of each other – your power, your gravity, and my energy, put together after so long of never knowing what that felt like – dancing with you felt like I was finally in orbit. I’d found a star bright, and burning enough to give me life, and color, where there had never been any… and, that’s what I thought of. That’s what I was thinking of, before you walked aboard, and forced me to face you – as you should have. As I am glad you did.”

Hux’s eyes are shimmering, and Kylo wants to get lost in them, but he needs to share this piece of himself. He wants Hux to understand – even if Hux will never let him say the words he wants to, he wants Hux to feel it.

“I was boarding that pod, despite every cell in my body screaming at me to turn back, and hide in your quarters, in your bed – never leave. Never leave. The only motivation that allowed me to board at all was the thought of attaining more power to protect you with. Still. I didn’t want power. I didn’t want to be a Knight, a Force user – I didn’t want to yell, to fight, or destroy anything, I didn’t want to meditate, find oneness with anything else – I just… I just wanted to dance with you. One more time. And when I board this pod to Tython, know that this is what I’m thinking of. I am sure it will be all the same – I will board without wanting to, consumed with my thoughts of you, and only wanting for one last dance.”

“…a star?”

There’s no explanation necessary; Kylo knows what Hux is asking.

“Yes. You’re my star,” Kylo replies, his thumb brushing Hux’s reddened cheekbone, “Golden.”

Hux’s breath catches, his eyes widen, and flicker away, and he makes an attempt to get out from Kylo’s grip, flustered, and in flight, dreadfully fearful, but Kylo keeps him there, keeps their faces close, and pointed toward each other.

“Promise me. Promise me, we’ll dance again.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation again, but Hux nods, and then the wind is being knocked out of him with how much force Kylo uses to back him up against the wall, and kiss him.

Hux’s arms curl around Kylo’s neck, and Kylo’s thumbs brush at the corners of their mouths again, like their first kiss.

_Why do you do that?_

_Do you dislike it?_

_No_ , Hux answers honestly, _I just don’t understand it._

_It’s just difficult to believe you are kissing me back. I need to feel it, to verify it._

_I’ve known you for so long, and never guessed you’d be such a sappy romantic._

Kylo smiles into their kiss, and then licks into Hux’s mouth, swallowing the vibration of Hux’s moan.

_You like it._

_Never accuse me of liking you; I’m deeply offended._

Laughter from both of them breaks the kiss, and they wind up staring at each other, both underdressed, both anxious, and displeased to be parting again so soon, but present. They’re both _present_ , and Kylo feels that, and Hux feels that, and they both feel the _other_ feeling it –

“We’re gonna work,” Kylo asks confidently, “Aren’t we?”

It’s good, Kylo thinks, that Hux understands him even when his questions and answers are vague, and brief. He means a future – a future with Hux. A future where Kylo rids Hux of his migraines during the worst seasons, and kisses him in the foyer, because he has the freedom to do just that. A future where their time together is unlimited, where they wear rings with condensed stars, where Hux winds up leaning backward over the kitchen counter, because Kylo can’t keep his hands to himself, and doesn’t need to. A future where they argue over asinine things that don’t truly matter, where Hux can paint or draw as he pleases, where Hux is a bottomless well of patient knowledge, where they can talk about the Angels, where the bed is big, and plush, where Hux’s hand rests on the small of Kylo’s back whenever they happen to stand beside one another, like it’s a natural state of being.

‘We’re going to work,’ meaning, ‘we make a good team,’ ‘this is going to last,’ ‘you want this daydream future as much as I do,’ ‘you and I are what the poets were talking about,’ ‘you and I are soul mates, and I found you.’ ‘We’re going to work,’ meaning, ‘I found you, and you found me, despite the odds, and in every universe to come, we’ll find each other time, and again, and I won’t let go, and you won’t let go.’

“I’m afraid we just might,” Hux answers, a hesitant smile crossing his lips.

Waiting a moment before bringing it up, and likely ruining the temporarily lightened mood, Kylo manages to say, “I’ve had insecurities.”

“Oh?” Hux asks, genuine care crossing his features, “What about?”

“I…”

Unable to vocalize it all, he simply touches at Hux’s temple, and inserts his memory of explaining his feelings to Jardom.

_“…I’m worried he regrets me. Or worse – that he has plainly accepted me, as some sort of inevitability – that he has not chosen me, but… is resigned to me. He has drawn away from me, and… I don’t know how to fix it. I’ve never cared about a person like this… or at all. I don’t know how to bridge this chasm.”_

When they both open their eyes to each other again, Hux touches at Kylo’s face, tucks away a stray lock of hair, and tells him, “you only know how to expand, and I only know how to draw in on myself. I think we’ll wind up in situations like this often, in the time to come, Ren.”

There’s a strong implication in that; that there will be more time together, that Hux _wants_ more time together, that they have a future together, and that Hux intends on staying with Kylo despite… despite _everything_.

Hux senses Kylo’s astonishment through their channel, and rolls his eyes.

_Don’t be daft, Ren._

“It’s… it’s just a different type of dance,” Hux offers, “We’ll figure out the steps as we get on. This… this is fine. I draw away, because I have already experienced the loss of you before – I can’t bear it again. And I never do anything I don’t want to, Ren. You should know that about me by now. I wouldn’t be standing here in your stupidly enormous arms if I didn’t want to be; I’m not resigned to you – I _choose_ you. Over, and again, and typically against my better judgment, but I do choose you. The chasm is not your doing. It’s mine.”

“How can I help?”

“The more information I have, the more control I feel,” Hux explains, “When you give me nothing to work with – I panic. There is nothing you can say that will make me more comfortable with what you are attempting to do. I think you’re spreading yourself too thin, I think there are too many holes in your plan that I have no idea how to fill, and you don’t seem nearly as confident about fighting off death now, as you did before the gala. I’m uneasy; you can talk to me, though. Tell me enough – give me some measure control.”

“Okay,” Kylo agrees readily, “Anything. Anything for you.”

Hux’s eyes darken, and lid, flash down to Kylo’s lips, and Kylo’s heart bumps loudly.

“That’s right,” Hux mutters, “Anything for me. You'd do anything for me...”

There is a shift in the air – Kylo wonders if Hux knows the effect his presence has on a room. How his moods can be felt like tectonic plates reallocating.

“Tell me again.”

Something hot coils low in Kylo’s belly at the order. Perhaps Hux _does_ know the effect his moods have.

“I would do anything for you.”

Hux’s cheeks fluster, and he’s staring at Kylo’s chest again. He plants a hand there, at the center, and applies some pressure.

“On your knees.”

Easily, Kylo moves onto the floor, his head tilted up to keep Hux’s gaze.

“Do you like it down there?”

His body even more intrigued than his mind, Kylo nods, swallows roughly, and replies, “yes. I knew I would.”

There’s a smile in Hux’s eyes, but not one on his lips. Kylo doubts he’s hiding his own thrill well.

“Are you ready to surrender control to me?”

“Yes,” Kylo replies promptly.

Dragging a hand through Kylo’s hair, Hux tilts his head, “good,” he smirks, and then asks, “how hard are you already?”

“Painfully.”

Hux’s lips twitch, like his smirk might stretch into a grin. He brushes his hand through Kylo’s hair, then gently down the side of Kylo’s face, stopping around his jaw. He’s being tortuously gentle. He presses the pad of his thumb against Kylo’s lips, and asks, “how badly do you want me naked right now?”

“More than you can know.”

A reverberating throb of some passionate emotion travels from Kylo into Hux through their channel, catching Hux’s breath. Kylo licks Hux’s thumb, then sucks it into his mouth, dragging his teeth along it as he pulls off.

“Let me give you control, Hux,” Kylo offers, voice rough, and husky, “I want to. I want to give you control.”

“Clear the area of the guest quarters in the recruiters' halls, set a blanket on the floor, and I expect you to be entirely naked when I arrive. Understood?”

Unable to do anything, but nod in response, Kylo watches how Hux’s eyes linger hotly on his face, making everything in his body feel rushed, and overheated. Hux wastes no time, though, leaving in the direction of his room – Kylo knows Hux is getting whatever materials, or clothes he needs. He’s intending to stay with Kylo in these guest quarters for however long Kylo will stay aboard. It’s eerily reminiscent of the time before he first left, but how can he refuse Hux?

He rises to his feet unsteadily, and goes to follow Hux’s orders, a tingling sensation of anticipation running up, and down his spine.

Control, sacrifice, purification – no. What they’re doing is not just fucking. Kylo thinks that’s why he’s so properly aroused after a talk like that – bearing himself to Hux, and Hux appearing just as transparent back to him. Reflecting his honesty. He’s hard, because the lilt of Hux’s voice sets his blood on fire, and the shine of Hux’s hair is striking enough to make him bow. He’s in a rush to get to the guest quarters, because Hux is going to sigh, Hux is going to bite his lip, moan, cry out, suck bruises into Kylo’s skin, and Kylo will forget every shadow he’s crossed in the galaxy. Kylo will look into Hux’s shimmering eyes, the way they only look when he’s alone with Kylo, and when he’s stripped raw like an exposed nerve, and Kylo will do anything – _anything_ – for those eyes, that voice, his General. His gold.

Anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Melanie, does that mean the next chapter is gonna have some kinky sex????"  
> Yes, it does!  
> "Melanie, they're /communicating/ like adults in a relationship!!!"  
> It would appear so!  
> "Melanie, Jardom is so insightful?? I thought he was just a nerd with a big alien crush???"  
> Those two things are not mutually exclusive!  
> "Melanie, what's the symbolism with all the gold??????"  
> That's for you to derive your own meaning from! It's symbolism in writing! It's subjective! Have fun!  
> "Melanie, is the next chapter gonna be the last sex scene????"  
> Nope!  
> "Melanie, are you any closer to wooing your Research Methods in Psychology Professor????"  
> I don't think so, unfortunately, but he wore a vest last week and that was a nice treat!  
> "Melanie, is there a lot of pain on the way??"  
> Yes! Always!  
> "MelanIE WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS"  
> STOP BLAMING ME OK YOU ALL TOOK ME BY MY SCALP AND DRAGGED ME KICKING AND SCREAMING INTO THE SINFUL DUMPSTER THAT IS KYLUX AND NOW WE ALL HAVE TO DEAL WITH IT LIKE ADULTS.  
> "Melanie, are your updates gonna be further apart now with the semester in full swing?"  
> Kinda sorta. The next couple chapters are written out but need editing. I'm hoping I'll be able to be a little more consistent than I have been!  
> "Melanie, are all your end notes gonna be like this now?"  
> Probably yeah


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings for this chapter!
> 
> The visions that Kylo revisits towards the end of this chapter, if you'd like to cross-reference them, are in Chapter 3 of Part 2!
> 
> For those of you squicked or just don't like to read smut, skip between the first line of this chapter to the exchange of "Kylo-" "Don't." and "The last cycle he spends..." to the line, "There's a figure haunting them."
> 
> All the important emotional developments are in the end notes if you have to skip the sex scenes <3

Putting strong emotion into words has never been Kylo’s strength, but the way he fumbles for coherency is very nearly embarrassing.

Seeing Hux in his crown was like walking through a dream in its surreal pleasure; seeing Hux in _only_ his crown is skewering Kylo’s nerves in an unprecedented way.

Hands cuffed in interrogation gear above his head, and cock harder than it possibly ever has been, Kylo doesn’t have all that much blood circulating in his head. Words require way too much thought, and energy, anyway, and with a lap full of very naked, very devious-looking General Aurelien Hux, Kylo only has energy enough to dedicate every thought he has to _yes_ , _more_ , _now_ , and _Hux, Hux, Hux, Hux_.

Gently, Hux pushes away some stray hairs from Kylo’s forehead, fingers just barely ghosting over his heated skin, and asks, “are your energies on the kids still focused?”

“The kids?” Kylo asks breathlessly.

There is a deep, dark bruise on his jugular at this point, and his open legs spread further to make more room for Hux to prowl into. His eyes are low; he’s watching the shaky rise and fall of Kylo’s sucked, bitten, and swollen chest.

“You know – my officers. Haas, and the lot.”

“What?” Kylo asks dazedly, struggling for comprehension, “Oh – yeah – they’re fine. Their states don’t require too much focus, they’re fi – _anh_!”

Hux laps up Kylo’s clavicle at the same time he cups Kylo’s sac, and rubs at his perineum with friction-warm fingers. Another light flickers, and breaks, and Hux rumbles something pleased into Kylo’s skin; it’s the third light to have broken since Hux undressed.

Hux relishes in Kylo’s loss of control – fascinating to Kylo that he can make Hux’s eyes sparkle with amazement when he’s in strict control over his powers, and engineers illusions, or casts mind tricks, and how blown, and dark, he can make Hux’s eyes when his abilities turn to ruins.

“Is it really so surprising?” Hux inquires, voice husky, and sending a shiver down Kylo’s spine.

“I didn’t say anything,” Kylo manages to mutter back, his neck and back arching in the hopes of more friction, and attention.

“Mm,” Hux hums back, “but you’re thinking very loudly.”

Kylo would smile at how the tables have turned, but he thinks this is possibly what Hux has always wanted; he knows now that he has the power to pull Kylo together with the gravitation of his very being. Maybe all he wants for confirmation of control is the proof that he can pull Kylo _apart_ just as easily. And Kylo won’t just allow for Hux to pull him apart – he _invites_ Hux to.

Hux sucks some bruises into Kylo’s sides, licks, and bites around Kylo’s pronounced hipbones, and he runs his hands down Kylo’s shaking thighs. He reduces Kylo to a stammering, quivering mess before finally using the broad of his tongue to coat Kylo’s length. There’s an audible crack of glass from somewhere, but no burst light, and Hux seems to think that’s unacceptable.

He swallows Kylo down with ease, liking how his jaw aches, how his mouth has to stretch to accommodate for Kylo’s girth, how the back of his throat will undoubtedly be bruised with how Kylo bucks involuntarily. He flexes his throat like a swallow around the head of Kylo’s cock, and _then_ the light shatters.

Hux pulls his mouth up, but never off, and with every slow bob, Kylo is slicked, and teased, and teetering on the edge of orgasm.

Distantly, Kylo registers the sound of a cap coming off, the fragrance of whatever salve they used the other cycle in the air, but his mind is mostly blank, until he feels Hux’s middle finger circling his rim. He gasps, eyes snapping open.

Hux looks up at him; his swollen mouth his still wrapped around Kylo’s cock, the shine of his saliva is dripping, and pooling over Kylo’s entire groin, and his eyes are luminous, and positively _sinister_. There’s a low rumble of restrained laughter when Kylo’s cock throbs at the sight. If they weren’t before, General Hux has well and truly fucked all of Kylo’s psychosexual responses.

_You’re – I’m – me? – me, this time?_

Kylo desperately hopes that he’s not coming off as pathetic as he feels; it’s impossible to think clearly when his body is a quaking mess. Hux shuts his eyes, sucks him down further, slick finger still circling, and his thumb as well is rubbing at Kylo’s perineum.

_Only if you’re amenable, of course._

“I –"  _I’ve never done this – not even to myself – I don’t know, I –_

Hux slips his mouth off Kylo, a string of drool reluctantly breaking between Kylo’s reddened glans, and Hux’s bottom lip. He straddles Kylo’s thighs, his right hand still circling Kylo’s rim, and his left hand coming to lazily pump at Kylo’s straining erection.

Hux kisses all along Kylo’s jaw, up to his chin, and then says softly, “relax, my sweet menace. I’ll be gentle, and if you don’t care for it, I’ll gladly trade places with you. Does that sound agreeable to you?”

Nodding even causes Kylo some dizziness – all of his blood has pooled lower in his body, every muscle feels light, and ticklish, jumping under Hux’s fingers whenever they stray.

“Excellent,” Hux says in response, leaning down to lick, and kiss at Kylo’s collarbone.

The first finger slips in slowly, and Hux keeps his thumb moving in languid circles, keeps his fist tight enough around Kylo's cock, that Kylo can’t come, but can feel his orgasm building unbearably.

“Talk to me, Kylo,” Hux mutters into the humid hollow of Kylo’s neck, “Are you alright?”

“Y-yes,” he answers, flustered at Hux’s sweetness.

The intrusion is not something he’s experimented with before, and he’s not quite sure if he likes it yet or not. He resolves to let Hux investigate further.

Sucking one nipple into his mouth, Hux partially distracts Kylo from the twisting, and turning of his finger, and while unfamiliar, Kylo decides he doesn’t dislike Hux’s finger in him. The way it slides in and out of him, how Hux’s equally slicked thumb keeps rubbing at that sensitive skin below his sac – his head is starting to feel as though it’s been stuffed with cotton.

Biting gently at Kylo’s pert nipple before pulling away, and kissing at the center of Kylo’s chest, Hux asks, “how does it feel?”

“ _Nnh_ – strange…”

“Bad strange?” Hux asks, kissing down Kylo’s twitching stomach.

His eyes shut, Kylo turns his head to the side, arching his back a little, trying to determine the right answer.

“No – not bad. Not bad strange…”

“You’re doing so well, Kylo,” Hux whispers against his shivering, hypersensitive skin; his breath tickling the coarse hairs around Kylo’s navel, “So precious, so brave, and so patient – you’re amazing.”

Kylo’s cock throbs again, jumping against his abdomen, and he’s half-humiliated that Hux has figured out this kink he didn’t realize he had, but he likes it too much to ask Hux to stop. When he feels through their channel, he doesn’t feel any mockery from Hux's end, though – Hux says these things, because he believes them,  _and_ because he knows Kylo gets off on it.

Kylo thinks he needs more blood in his skull – like he might pass out from all of this sensory input, but he doesn’t want Hux to worry, and he’d like to make Hux proud. He’d like to endure the strangeness, and welcome Hux into his body; he’d like to bring Hux the same pleasure Hux has brought him.

Hux brings his legs together, and moves further down Kylo’s body again, taking Kylo’s cock back into his mouth, and setting a slow tempo. It’s while he’s curling his tongue around the base of Kylo’s cock, that he gradually slips in the second finger, and Kylo makes something close to a keening noise.

_Is it okay?_

“It’s –" Kylo can’t really respond, his brows pull together; Hux’s fingers are moving in time with each other, and appear to be seeking something in particular, moving with a type of formula in mind.

_Tell me, Kylo._

“It’s... that’s…” Kylo trails off, a dull pulsation of something very good growing at the base of his spine, “…that’s actually… actually –  ** _hanh!_** – _ah_ – **_Hux_ ** –"

Before Kylo can string together anything coherent, Hux crooks his fingers again, and rubs that particular bundle of nerves more determinedly, and every discomfort Kylo was experiencing before is muted in the wake of that intense pleasure. Kylo can’t hear the noises he’s making over the rush of blood in his ears.

_Very good, Kylo. You make the most beautiful noises. Spread your legs wider for me, now. You're doing so, so well._

Following the order thoughtlessly, Kylo’s head lolls to the other side, his chest is heaving, the muscles in his abdomen are contracting visibly, and a sheen of sweat has developed all over his body.

 _So obedient_ , Hux compliments, _so eager to please me. And, you do. You please me deeply, Kylo. You're so good to me. You look beautiful spread out for me._

His fingers keep moving in and out, crooking, rubbing, and his mouth stays wrapped around Kylo’s cock, keeping him exceptionally warm, and on the cusp of coming.

The third finger borders on overwhelming, but Kylo’s head is pleasantly buzzing, and the very slight pain of its entry is grounding, comforting, in that way that he isn’t frightened of his weightlessness.

All too soon, Hux’s incredible mouth is gone, and his slicked hand is wrapping around his own cock, coating himself. Kylo’s lidded eyes are drawn to the motion; Hux’s dexterous fingers working himself, the pad of his thumb rubbing at the head of his cock lazily.

Eager to give himself to Hux, but unable to speak, or even think, clearly, Kylo just wraps his feet around the back of Hux’s thighs, and tugs. Hux smiles in response; he stays on his knees, pulling Kylo up to him so his waist is at an angle.

With his legs spread wide around Hux’s lithe waist, his upper-back and head at the floor, and hands still cuffed above his head, he’s entirely powerless. It’s frightening, but liberating, as well – he feels safe in Hux’s hands. Hux senses this trust through their bond, and he leans over Kylo, bending Kylo nearly in half just so he can keep his lips close to Kylo’s when he says, “I trust you too, Kylo.”

“ _Hux_ ,” Kylo groans wantonly.

“Tell me you want it.”

“I want you,” Kylo answers immediately, begging, “I _need_ you – _please_ , Hux.”

The shimmer of Hux’s golden crown is nearly as bright as the glistening of his eyes. He kisses Kylo chastely, and then in one, rather swift motion, Hux is entirely inside him. Kylo gasps, and his arms jump, as if he’d like to grip at Hux, but forgot about his restraints.

Hux’s hands stay at his hips, and he angles them differently, just slightly, and when he backs out to thrust in again, he hits that spot, and Kylo’s voice goes _hoarse_ on the noises he can’t tamp down, and all of the lights flicker out briefly.

Glancing up momentarily at the flickering lights, Hux looks immensely pleased; as clear-headed as a starved predator, but pleased, and Kylo wonders at Hux’s beauty. His eyes so sharp, incandescent, and spirited, his lips full, and teeth so white with those sharp canines. His body is pale, freckled, and his blush spreads like scarlet storm clouds over his body, sort of chaotically – without pattern or predictability.

To Kylo’s eyes, Hux is ethereal, and he _wants_ to worship Hux, _relishes_ in the opportunity to worship him.

He wants to worship Hux the rest of their lives.

He wants to tell Hux what he’s feeling, he wants to say it – to say the words that really matter, but he’s terrified of being silenced again. He’s heartbroken at the thought of scaring Hux away with feelings Hux clearly considers a burden, or threat. He shuts his eyes, his brow furrowed, chest heaving with shallow breaths, impossible to calm.

“Kylo,” Hux says gently, his voice breaking through the maelstrom of the inside of Kylo’s head, “Deep breathe. I’ve got you, Kylo. I've got you. It's safe - you're okay.”

There’s too much emotion bubbling inside him, like a dormant volcano, and being so connected to Hux, so vulnerable for him – it’s tearing him apart, just the way Hux wanted. He makes some pitiful, weak noise, and Hux leans down again, touching their foreheads together.

“I’ve got you, Kylo. You can let go. I’ve got you.”

The forbidden words will come tumbling out and ruin everything if he opens his mouth, so rather than replying, or kissing Hux, Kylo bites his lower lip, and takes in two shaky breaths as deeply as he can.

His body has never known pleasure like this, and his soul has never known oneness like this, and his mind has never known family like this, and his heart has never been recognized like this before. Everything he feels when he touches Hux, smells Hux, tastes Hux, hears Hux, _thinks_ of Hux – it’s all as incomprehensibly enormous as the ever-expanding universe. What he feels is comfort, and it's devastation, and it's ugly, terrifying, and beautiful, wondrous - impossible.

Someday, long away, he wants to die knowing he lead a seemingly infinite, fruitful, impossibly glorious, and intensely tender life with Hux.

Full – that’s what he wants – he wants his life to be full, and not the despairing black hole it’s been since his youth, and he knows Hux can give that to him. Hux can fill that dense, dark emptiness in Kylo's soul with otherworldly light, shining, electric eyes to power every valve, and artery that’s fallen dead, and impaired in their disuse – he gives Kylo purpose. Meaning. Hux is truly everything to Kylo. He's everything, and Kylo wants to tell him so badly.

He remembers dancing with Hux, how the lights at the gala shone in his hair, twinkled in his eyes like far off stars, how his pristine uniform was so flattering, and handsome – he remembers how at ease Hux was, in his hold. Hux’s innate grace, the way he smiled shyly, the way those opaque lashes fluttered like butterflies’ wings when he glanced down in embarrassment over his possessiveness of Kylo.

Kylo imagines a wedding ceremony with Hux in that uniform, with Hux smiling at him, vowing to dedicate the remainder of his mortality to Kylo, and Kylo loses his breath again. He wants to voice it all – he wants to make promises, vows, admissions, but he can’t, because Hux doesn’t want him to.

He can’t, because he's scared of what Hux will or won't say in return. He can't, because he thinks he knows what response he'll get.

He can't, and it’s _killing_ him.

“Hard - harder,” Kylo breathes out harshly, suddenly, “I – I can’t – you need to – I need you to _fuck_ me, Hux. Stop - stop being gentle with me. _Fuck me_.”

It really is rather amazing to see the flash of betrayal in Hux’s eyes. It’s only there for a brief second, but it’s there, and Kylo spots it before it can ghost itself.

It’s the confirmation Kylo needed; Hux knows this isn’t just fucking either. He doesn’t want it to be. Neither of them do - so, Kylo wonders, why does this silent back-and-forth have to be part of their unnamable game?

“Well, how can I deny you when you ask so kindly?” Hux asks, voice rough, venomous, and sultry.

His grip on Kylo’s hips turns bruising, and he follows through – he sets a relentless pace, having positioned himself precisely where he needs to be to pound against Kylo’s prostate on every inward thrust. The lights flicker, and hot tears slip from the corners of Kylo’s eyes – he doesn’t even know what they’re for. The intensity of everything, and the loss of all his senses making it impossible to ascribe meaning to them.

“Hux – _Hux_ , _harder_ ,” Kylo growls, and Hux responds in kind.

Kylo’s legs are so weak, and trembling now, that he can’t even wrap them around the small of Hux’s back, they just hang in the air, bouncing with every violent snap of Hux’s hips. His cuffed hands clench into tight fists, his arms straining, heart pounding, and he realizes quite suddenly that he’s about to come, untouched.

There’s anxiety for some reason – that fear that he might fly off into innumerable broken shards, and he makes a small cry in the hopes Hux will understand him.

“I’ve got you,” Hux insists, the gentleness returning; Hux leans in close again, slowing down just a little, and allowing for one hand to come up, and cup the side of Kylo’s face, “I’ve got you, Kylo. Let go. Come for me. You’re gorgeous when you come – let me see it.”

His climax moves through him like a deep current, and the raw power of it shatters all the remaining lights, pushes all of the furniture outward like there’s been an explosion in the room, and Kylo is the epicenter of it all.

Hux doesn’t lie; not about keeping Kylo together – even if he’s displeased with what Kylo’s said, he promised to hold Kylo together, and he does. His hands come to hold Kylo’s flanks, and his grip is gentle there, reassuring, and his gaze is so very nearly _loving_ , Kylo _aches_.

He’s still coming, white stripes painting his chest, and he can feel himself contracting around Hux; he can feel it, too, when Hux is knocked over by his own orgasm, thrusting unevenly until he’s at a full stop, buried deep in Kylo, and falling over him to catch his breath.

Hux shudders through the aftershocks, takes time to catch his breath, and then shakily reaches up, pressing his thumb against the print-recognizing lock of Kylo’s cuffs.

When the cuffs come undone, Kylo can sense that Hux is anticipating Kylo’s hands to cup his face, or otherwise touch him in some display of affection. Unsure of why he’s frightened to now, Kylo doesn’t. He shuts his eyes, and massages his wrists, working circulation back into his hands, and stretching his fingers as they tingle.

“Kylo –"

“Don’t.”

He can feel Hux’s shock; he has no idea what Hux was about to say, but whatever it is, it’s too much to hear. He can’t say what his soul is on fire with, or he risks losing Hux entirely, so silence it must be.

“…are you… did I hurt you?”

“No,” Kylo answers simply.

Without warning, Hux smacks Kylo’s chest none too kindly, and Kylo’s eyes flash up at him, wounded, and thoroughly confused. Hux’s brow is tightly knit, his eyes are glossy, and he wraps his hands firmly around Kylo’s.

“I’m the one that pulls away. Not you. You’re not allowed to do that.”

“I’m not –"

“ _Yes_ , you are,” Hux interjects angrily, “Tell me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t.”

Puzzlement displays itself for maybe point-two seconds on Hux’s face before disappearing completely.

Of course he knows what Kylo wants to say; Hux knows everything.

“If… if the sex is too much, we don’t have to –"

“What?” Kylo panics, “ _No_! _No_ , I don’t want it to stop –"

“Well, it will have to, if this is what it creates between us.”

What “this,” is isn’t precisely specified, but Kylo understands, anyway. He can’t stand the thought of not touching Hux again, but if he can’t keep his emotions in check, he won’t have any say in whether or not he can touch Hux. Hux will take that privilege from him.

That threat is very real, and probably makes the most sense; to be fair, Kylo never should have started sleeping with Hux. He never should have kissed Hux. He never should have developed these increasingly cumbersome feelings for Hux. Maybe for both their sakes.

It’s too late now, Kylo knows. He feels this way, and he’ll never _stop_ feeling this way. He knew that the moment he laid a very drunken General to sleep – he can remember that electric shock of desire scaring him back a ways. Funny how desire for Hux once frightened him, and now he’d like to marinate in it.

He remembers the weight of Hux’s greatcoat over him, how the snowflakes in the air caught on his lashes, and stung in his facial wound. He remembers how clear, and calm Hux’s voice was, how certain he was; _“immunity to pain is not the absence of pain, Ren. It is the acceptance of pain that dulls it.”_

As much as Hux breeds desire, and color, and life, and beauty, in Kylo that Kylo didn’t know was possible, he brings pain, too.

Kylo always knew that.

He knew that Hux is, was, and probably always shall be, an icy tundra with a barrier of jagged glass, and serrated blades – but, he knows the way Hux looks when he dances, too. He knows how Hux hides his face when he laughs, because he’s inexplicably embarrassed by his own laughter. Kylo knows the deity of ruination that snuffed out the Hosnian system with a single blow, he knows the youngest, most decorated General of the First Order, he knows the man that goes by 'Hux,' and he knows Aurelien.

What Hux has always promised, to Kylo, and the galaxy at large, is an abundance of pain. He isn’t going to change just because Kylo cares for him. Kylo’s adoration isn’t going to soften Hux into a different person.

All Kylo can do is make a corner of the universe safe enough for Hux to show the entire gradient of his personality – the blades and ice, but the soft lips, and reluctant laughter on the bridge too. The God in him decimating galactic systems, the General in him radiating composure and poise, the man in him exuding patience, and all the hues and shades of Aurelien.

A multitude of realities exist inside Hux, and Kylo finds he wouldn’t want to live without the pain of knowing all the paradoxes, and contradictions of Hux. He wouldn’t want to live without Hux at all, actually.

He imagines dying by Hux’s hands – that dagger of his slicing open an artery, embedding itself in his head – by all means, Hux can cut open Kylo’s chest, and eat his still-beating heart if he so wanted to. So long as he didn’t force Kylo to live without him – not for a moment.

When he returns from Tython, he never wants to be separated from Hux again – not even to fetch groceries, or get a start on the yard work. And if he _must_ die, he’d like for Hux to be the one to kill him.

He honestly can’t imagine a more peaceful way to depart; not that he can say that. Hux would hate hearing that for its sentimentality alone, but would likely be alarmed, and perhaps even offended, by the implications of that fantasy. It would be remarkable, though, to die by the hands of General Hux.

_“A Knight of Ren mustn’t die of exposure, Lord Kylo Ren. It’s in poor taste - far too unremarkable a way to perish.”_

And isn’t that what Hux wanted for him, once upon a time? To die remarkably?

“Kylo, you bleeding idiot,” Hux hisses, his insult breaking Kylo’s reverie.

Before he’s fully aware of what’s happening, Hux has gathered his face in those nimble hands, and his kiss is forceful – it’s more like a slap than a kiss. It’s a little biting, it’s ardent, and sincere. It’s so genuinely Hux; painful, and sharp, even in its inherent tenderness.

“Stop taking yourself away from me. Just… stop it,” Hux says, his breath a bit lost.

“How… how are you ever going to forgive me?”

Kylo had no idea that question was still floating about his unconscious until it was out in the open.

“…is that what’s worrying you?” Hux asks, his face close, and eyes flickering back and forth between Kylo’s, “Kylo…”

After a momentary pause, Hux takes one of Kylo’s hands, and places the palm of it over his heart. Kylo can feel it beating there, forty beats per minute. He glances at his hand between their chests, and then back up to Hux’s arctic eyes.

“I am precisely where I want to be.”

Kylo is unsure of what Hux means – it could be deciphered so many ways, as Hux is often cryptic at emotional times like these, and Hux seems to see the struggle in Kylo’s expression. He touches their foreheads together, and his inner voice is loud in Kylo’s head.

_I was ruined to have lost you. Truly – losing you, or having felt like I lost you – that was a torture, and pain unlike I’d known could exist in one body. And I will bleed every star in the galaxy, destroy every system, kill every unassuming officer under my leadership, if it will keep you beside me. I can’t imagine what caring for a gentleman like myself must be like – I know I can be… difficult. And hard to read. And secretive. But, even as you stole my memories from me, I felt safe. Had any other man seen the inside of my mind, I would have sooner killed him than run away. The truth is, I always feel safe with you, even when I shouldn’t – even when it makes no sense at all. It’s what’s so thrilling about you. You’re so different from all the rest. Anger is just an expression of fear, and as you can tell, my anger is gone._

_And your fear?_ Kylo asks.

_I fear death, and that’s entirely **your** fault. I fear losing you, I fear harming you, because I don’t know how to treat anything kindly. I fear what I might become if I lose you. But I don’t fear **you** , Kylo Ren. Every time death has its finger hooked in the back of my collar, you grab its wrist, and twist it until there’s a crack and thunder, and I’m somehow still alive. When I ran from you, when I locked you out of my room, when I told you I’d kill you if you came in, and truly **did** try to kill you – even then, you bared your neck to me. You’ll harm me, and I’ll harm you – it’s what we do. But we will clean the lacerations, and bandage the wounds, and find a way to laugh about it someday. _

_I don’t know… I don’t understand how you can forgive me, Hux._

He feels Hux smile more than he actually sees it.

_Kylo… you took a long stroll through my mind, saw the very worst of me – the ugliest, angriest, most apathetic, and inarguably terrible things I’ve been, done, think, feel, and still am to this day. And you didn’t shy way from me. Rather, you told me I was something precious to you. You forgave me without even trying, you forgave me for all I've done, and been, for the monster I've been made into. You forgave me – you forgave me, first. That’s how I can forgive you, Kylo._

A tear falls from the corner of one of Kylo’s shut eyes, and Hux kisses the corner of that eye, the gentle touch of his lips tickling Kylo’s skin.

_You have given me so much I didn’t know I wanted, or needed – something I never thought I needed was forgiveness. I was so certain that if anyone ever knew the truth – the entire truth – that I’d… I’m not sure. Be forced to acknowledge how right my father was about me from the start, I suppose. That I was… without a home. Or a right to a home. That I was a weed, a blemish – you saw the entire truth. You saw it all - uncensored, bloody, unfeeling, cold, terrible - you saw it all. And you told me that I… you called me a **star**. Kylo, you said you’d give me **everything** when what I feared would happen is that I would finally see how clearly my father sees that I’ve never deserved **anything**. **You** forgave **me** first. And, I forgive **you**. Ugly truths, terrible deeds, sins, murders, and all. I would have you no other way._

Threading his fingers through Hux’s hair, effectively knocking off the crown, Kylo pulls Hux closer until they’re kissing, and they don’t stop.

Hux eventually maneuvers himself to lie next to Kylo, and Kylo ignores the mess between them, just holds onto Hux as securely as he can, and kisses him until there is nothing but Hux – the smell, taste, feel, presence, and thought of him – the way existing ought to be.

It takes them a long while before they clean up.

The next cycle, Hux spends in his quarters, mostly playing with Millicent, and conversing with Jardom, as both Nali and Haas remain eerily still. Kylo is in the hangar, meditating between three pods, coating his energies over them like waves beating against a jagged rock, until it’s smooth and porous. They eat with Phasma and Jardom, they bathe, and sleep together in Kylo’s guest quarters, and for the next two cycles, they take each other on every available surface.

Kylo makes an offhanded comment post-coitus on the second cycle, about how Hux used to hate his destruction of the ship, but now seems Hellbent on making Kylo ruin lights, and furniture at every sexual encounter. Hux laughs in response – hides his face in that way he does, and Kylo is so charmed by it, all he can do is laugh in turn.

They spar some, they talk as friends talk, and talk as lovers talk; Hux draws portraits of Haas, Jardom, Nali, Phasma, and Kylo, though Kylo is the only one to see them. Kylo blankets his energy over the pods, Nali, and Haas, and he spends energy, too, on his and Hux's illusion. In his own mind, Kylo has titled the illusion Aurelien Grasslands, but he is too frightened of Hux’s reaction to ask for explicit permission to use his name.

When they are lying together, hands touching, legs twined, Kylo invites Hux into his mind, and Hux travels through the vast, spiraling library of Kylo’s inner-workings. He investigates several memories belonging to Ben Solo – his curiosities are generally benign. He is very curious about the training Kylo has accomplished. When he and Kylo inevitably end up talking about his memories of Han and Leia, Hux doesn’t offer much in way of comfort – not intentionally, at least. He unintentionally gives comfort in his validation and objective recounting, though.

He simply says, “you were profoundly sad. You were thinking abstractly so young, experiencing cosmic loneliness, and existential fear, before you could truly comprehend what either of those things meant. Your parents were not a particularly good team, but I see how you mean – they tried their best. You are an anomaly. I am sure they both hoped for something lower maintenance, something easily definable, and from what I can tell in your memories, they were very black-and-white thinkers. Dangerous – the galaxy is made up mostly of grey, and to try to define you as one thing or another with no in-between… well, I think it’s cruel altogether to define a child, and not allow them to define themselves. They failed you. They failed Ben.”

That’s enough, somehow.

Not said in anger, or disbelief – just someone, someone intellectual, someone who cares about him, looking him in the eye, and saying, ‘yes, they tried, but they failed, and that’s not your fault.’ That’s enough to sew up an old wound, and Kylo says in return, “she would never admit it, but General Organa would find it impossible to hate you, you know.”

Hux smiles at him, and kisses his nose as some form of ‘thanks.’

Hux is in deep discussion with Jardom one cycle, and Kylo has spent several hours meditating between the pods. He calls in early, though – in search of Phasma. He’s yet to have time alone with her, and while he wants to spend every waking moment he has left with Hux, he knows it’s important that he speak to her.

When he finds her, she is standing outside Hux’s quarters, her arms crossed over her chest, dressed down, and looking like she hasn’t slept for many cycles. They meet eyes, they are silent for a few moments, and then he asks her if she’d still like to kill him.

“I’m not so sure,” she answers honestly, “Hux is my brother. I can hate what you’ve done, but if he’s so fuckin’ attached to you, I figure I’ll have to find a way to tolerate you, despite… you know. _Yourself_.”

Kylo nods, because he understands, and, frankly, he agrees with her.

“He once thought about having a life with me – marriage, and children,” Kylo starts conversationally, “He imagined a young girl to name Ziare. He pictured you there – in our made-up life together. With all his wits, I don’t think even Hux realizes how much he cares about you. No matter what I am to him, you will always have your place beside him.”

She blinks in some surprise, and then schools her face as much as possible. Kylo thinks it’s unnecessary that she try to mask any emotion from him, but says nothing. She looks away, and he notices how glassy her eyes get.

Her words are sparse, and it’s how he knows they are too significant to ignore.

“Don’t take that man from me, Kylo Ren.”

He tilts his head, and she blinks, still not looking at him – thinking she might cry if she does. Kylo fails to understand what he’s done to upset her.

“Hux is all I’ve had in this galaxy – I care about him so deeply, so… _so_ much. Just… don’t take him from me.”

“I have no intention to.”

She nods, as if she’s receiving an order, clears her throat, and then disappears into Hux’s room without a further word. Kylo follows shortly after her.

Everyone is quite civil with each other while the hours tick by – Snoke is absent, but Kylo has not done much to draw attention to himself, or _Aurora_. He intends to keep it that way.

The last cycle he spends before his trip to Tython, he spends with Hux. Hours meant for sleep are brimmed with sweat, cum, cursing, broken lights, flipped furniture, gasping, and biting, and it’s during that last sleep cycle that another vision he had so long ago, comes to fruition.

He remembers the vision as Hux drags his nails down Kylo’s back, his hair fanned out, and face flushed, gasping, “ _more_ ,” and Kylo remembers –

_“ **More** –" – it’s gasped, its raspy, low tone born from Hux’s exposed, and bruised throat –_

There are deep love-bites all over Hux’s arched neck, and his voice is coarse as sandpaper from the noises Kylo has milked out of him over the hours. He is a work of art, all red, pale, freckled, bruised with Kylo’s zealous adoration.

Kylo shuts his eyes, starts fucking deeper, and harder, into Hux’s willing flesh; he leans down, his hair falling around them both, and then Hux makes a strange noise – something too close to a cry.

Kylo opens his eyes to see droplets blossoming between Hux’s opaque lashes – his expression is almost tortured. It’s not from pleasure-pain either.

Energies of intense emotion are cascading over Hux’s body, and being absorbed into Kylo at every place their bodies meet. With eyes still shut tightly, Hux murmurs, “ _Kylo_ ,” – so sweet, so wanton, so desperate, and beautiful, and incredible – he says it with so much purpose, that way he does when they’re alone, and intimate. The way only he can.

_Kylo’s hair draping around Hux’s face like dark curtains – Hux’s nails clawing down his back, the room shaking, and shifting, Hux gasping – Hux’s kiss-swollen lips opening on a silent cry, his brows pulled in tight, his eyes shut – tears blooming between his wet, thick lashes, “ **Kylo** –"_

_You’re close_ , Kylo thinks through their channel.

Hux nods, but the intensity isn’t from his oncoming orgasm – there’s something else.

Something he wants to say.

Something important.

Before Kylo’s blood-deprived brain can even begin to run possible scenarios, he feels Hux’s hands come to grip his face. His eyes flicker to Hux’s, and he’s looking at Kylo that way again – that special way –

_Hux’s hands framing his face, looking up at him with glassy, reflective, and beautiful eyes –_

_The Force took special care with you_ , Kylo thinks unashamedly, _You are so incredibly beautiful, Hux. You’re so beautiful._

Cheeks and ears growing some darker scarlet than should be possible, Hux shakes his head – he’s being shy. He’s being sweet again, like the way he is when he laughs, and sings, and Kylo _adores_ him. He thinks the moment is passing, but then Hux opens his eyes again – they’re still wide open, still showing Hux’s moonstone soul in ever-sharpening clarity. Kylo’s heart bumps.

_Kylo might tell Hux he’s beautiful, and Hux is shaking his head, his cheeks so red, his lashes stuck together, his hair going in every direction, and the way he **looks** into Kylo’s eyes –_

Hux’s hands tug his face closer, his ankles lock at the small of Kylo’s back, wanting him closer than close can be. His eyes are so unguarded, forgiving, wondrous –

_That **look** – when those shocking blue eyes open up to him, Kylo’s heart is loud, and hard, and so is Hux’s, and Hux wants Kylo closer, but he can’t possibly be any closer than he is…_

“Kylo…” Hux whispers, his breath ghosting over Kylo’s lips.

Kylo waits, always truly in want for what Hux will say. Hux’s eyes sparkle like gems, his hands pet at Kylo’s sweating, blushing face, and Hux tells him, “…you look like a dark Angel…”

_…and maybe Hux says it out loud – maybe he thinks it, and Kylo has their minds wrapped around one another, and he hears it there, but he can hear it, crystal clear, like Hux were saying it right now, “Kylo… you look like a dark Angel,” and there’s a wish from somewhere deep – something clawing, something forlorn, but urgent, and wild, and ethereal, all at once, and it’s coming from Hux._

Kylo feels it – he feels that wish, but he can’t define it, he can’t decipher the code of it, it’s just all-consuming, it’s a lifetime, it’s a memory, it’s magnificent, and it's terrifying –

_And it’s coming from Kylo, too. And they both feel it in each other – twisted, tangled souls unraveling like spiral galaxies to dance around one another, tear each other apart, and create something more than themselves._

Their channel is a rapid river, and for a moment, they’re not Hux or Kylo – they’re that _one_ thing. That _one_ entity, that one complete, impossible sentience that is the combination of them both that makes up something else, altogether different from either of them. Something natural, and invaluable.

Hux is his emperor, his deity, his human, his Aurelien Hux, his multitude of men in one slim body, and Kylo is his knight, his dark Angel, his human, his Ben Solo, his conflicting, warring selves, and they forgive each other.

They’ve forgiven each other – for everything. For their flaws, for themselves, for their actions, and inactions, for their mistakes, for their egos, for their sins, and their unbearable prides.

The galaxy is nothing, the stars don’t matter, power – it’s irrelevant. Nothing matters, but the air between them, and what is doubtlessly the twining of their souls – just like Hux’s childhood fairytales described, just like the poets talked about.

_I don’t want to leave you._

_I don’t want you to leave_ , Hux answers.

Kylo shudders, swallowing something like a sob, and he kisses Hux, wrapping his arms under Hux’s back, feeling that diagonal scar Brendol left, feeling Hux’s heart rapidly beating against his own. Tongues sliding against each other, bodies slick, and shining with exertion, limbs knotted together, tearful, and thankful – when they come, they do it in unison, and as they gradually fall from the high of it, it’s with the knowledge that danger is very near.

There’s a figure haunting them – a death – something cold, something that started distant, and nearly invisible for how far and improbable it was. Now, it stands by the bedside, indistinguishable, unknowable until it will be upon them.

Fighting off the reality of the oncoming cycle – the reality that Kylo has to leave, and soon, they barely sleep. They kiss, and gaze at each other, dream intermittently, and Kylo thinks Hux’s mother was right from the start.

Kylo thinks Hux’s mother must have seen Hux open those eyes, pure, undiluted, newborn, and unscarred, and she knew his name, because it shone in his eyes. Kylo thinks Hux’s mother knew Hux the moment he came to be, she knew – this man _is_ golden. He _is_ precious. He has a soul worth forgiveness – at least, to Kylo. Kylo can forgive him anything.

The rest of the galaxy can be lost forever – no Gods, no stars, no Angels, no power is needed. Not here. Not between them.

Kylo pets back some of Hux’s feathered, phoenix hair, and resolves to die in this man’s arms. It’s what he wants – it’s the only fate he’ll accept. And it’s a fate he won’t accept for a long while yet.

Kylo is unafraid of Anakin’s warnings, unafraid of the ring in Nali’s hand, unafraid of Master Snoke, unafraid of death, too, if it would like to come charging at him like a dark horse – he was once a slave to fear. Fear, and anger, and righteousness. He is a slave to no one, and nothing, now – he is a soul mate to Aurelien Hux, and he has no Master. Not anymore.

He kisses Hux’s temple, watches in quiet awe as Hux smiles gently in his sleep, and he kisses Hux again, and again, until Hux is awake, laughing ticklishly, and wrapping his hands in Kylo’s hair, kissing him back.

 _Dream later_ , Kylo says, _just kiss me now._

 _Forever_ , Hux promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The entire beginning of this chapter is some heavy smut with light sub/dom qualities to it. Hux is topping, Kylo is cuffed and in the midst of the pleasure, he has a sort of emotional crisis; he clearly wants to confess his feelings to Hux, but he knows he risks losing Hux if he says it out loud. He tells Hux to "fuck" him - this is taken as insult by Hux, seeing as they've both silently established that there is a difference between "fucking" and "love-making." Hux isn't cruel to Kylo, though - he listens to Kylo's needs, delivers and takes care of Kylo during and after the intensity of his orgasm. This is important only because it establishes in all certainty that Hux definitely knows there are feelings between them, he just doesn't want to talk about them.
> 
> The second in-depth sex scene is something Kylo saw in a vision in Part 2. It's almost beyond love-making - their minds are linked, their emotions are all over the place and they're aligned like planets. Hux tells Kylo, "you look like a dark Angel," and there are super intense emotions coming off of Hux. Kylo can sense that Hux wants to say something, but is holding back - during this encounter, Hux's eyes become unguarded in that magical way they sometimes do when he's showing his most authentic self. It's all very intense. 
> 
> That's what you missed if you skipped the sex scenes!
> 
> "Melanie, waIT KYLO IS LEAVING IN THE NEXT CHAPTER?? ALREADY???"  
> Yes! There is much to do and we are fast approaching the end of the series!  
> "Melanie, whAT DID PHASMA MEAN???"  
> What do you THINK she meant  
> "Melanie, thE RING THO"  
> I know, I'll get to it, friends, just be patient with me  
> "Melanie, why is Hux all fuCKED UP ABOUT FEELINGS WHY CAN'T HE JUST SAY THE WORDS????"  
> Have you met this Hux? He's a human disaster.  
> "Melanie, I'm worried about 'the kids'!!!!"  
> You should be!!  
> "Melanie, does this chapter literally end with just Kylo and Hux lazily kissing each other the entire night through????"  
> Yes! They have crossed the threshold into disgustingly-in-love-and-only-have-eyes-for-each-other land!  
> "Melanie, I heard your husband is FINALLY returning from combat deployment this week after being gone for half a year! Congratulations!"  
> thaNK YOU I AM VERY EMOTIONAL ABOUT IT /LOUD SOBBING/  
> "Melanie, I'm upset and it's your fault."  
> i apologize


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings for this chapter! Enjoy the softness while it lasts!

Blearily, Hux slowly blinks into wakefulness.

The first thing he knows upon waking, is that Ren is meant to leave, that he’s likely to turn over, and find that he’s alone again, but…

He’s not alone this time.

Ren’s arms are secured around him, the tip of his nose, and the fullness of his lips, are rested gently against the back of Hux’s neck.

He’s immensely warm – Ren provides much more warmth than Hux’s greatcoat ever did, anyway. Logically, Hux knew human skin against human skin should create heat – that’s a basic survival technique to keep from dying from exposure. The sex he had with his few prior partners was not warm, though, not that he can remember – or maybe those encounters _were_ warm, but Hux was unable to feel it. He thinks of Croeta’s wife, but he doesn’t remember any heat, any indication of a human heart beating near to his. He supposes he just never let himself be held before.

Remarkable as it is, the oddity it is to be held so kindly, Hux decides to spend time memorizing the sensation. How heavy Ren’s arm’s are, how wide his chest is against Hux’s narrow back, how the ridge of Brendol’s scar feels against Ren’s abdomen. He notes the way Ren’s legs fit behind his, how the coarse hair on Ren’s body is so different from the thin hair of his own. Ren’s hands are lax, resting limply around Hux’s ribs.

Ren must like physical contact in sleep, to be so inclined towards pressing his entire body against Hux without waking – Hux recalls how, while unconscious and healing, Ren thrashed, and groaned in pain, and panic, after Starkiller. He remembers how it all would come to a halt as soon as Hux just touched him. Just brushed his hair back, away from that clammy sweat, that furrowed brow.

Now, though, Ren is peaceful in sleep, no agonizing wounds, or phantoms, torturing him while he rests. His breath is slow, the only sound he makes is an occasional hum that vibrates against the small hairs at the base of Hux’s skull.

It’s all very intimate. Much more intimate than Hux has ever imagined enjoying, but now he can think of nothing he wants more than to stay there, in Ren’s arms, where he’s safe, where Ren is thrilling, and forces him to feel.

Hux remembers thinking on Ren’s body’s heat the first time skin touched skin – the first ever their hands touched. His face flushes just recalling it.

Ren wasn’t awake for it.

They were in the pod, escaping Starkiller as it collapsed, and Ren was slipping into unconsciousness – Hux ungloved his hands to see that his medical performance was without error – he needed to feel for veins with his own fingers (he’s never trusted other medical professionals, and he tends to think the droids are shoddy phlebotomists).

The droid cut through Ren’s robes, leaving his terribly injured torso bare, cauterized lashings still smoldering like a fire only just put out. Hux held down Ren’s forearm, hooking him up to an I.V without need for a second try – he’s always been good at finding veins. The medical droid was busy sedating Ren, but once he taped that I.V down, all Hux could understand, or focus on was the silky, snow-cold sensation of the skin under Ren’s forearm against his fingertips.

He remembers holding Ren’s wrist, his thumb caressing the fair skin there, he remembers moving his fingers onto Ren’s palm – he remembers realizing that Ren is a man, a human man, who is mortal as all else. It was humbling, somehow.

He had expected Ren to be cold to the touch – and not because of the snow. It was not a situational thought – he had always thought Ren would be cold to the touch.

He’s not entirely certain why he’d expected Ren to be cold – it might have to do with Ren’s helmet. He maybe thought Ren would be just as metallic, smell like blood up close, taste like copper, be eerily, inhumanly cool to the touch. But, he’s not like that – not like that at all.

His body is fevered, always, his body is made almost completely of hardened muscle, but his skin is satin, and where Ren’s flesh has some give, it’s any other human’s flesh. Vulnerable, lush – tastes like sweat, something innately masculine, and unique that only Ren’s skin produces, and even sweet in some spots.

Ren is a strange monster. A monster that apologizes for itself, a monster that _knows_ it’s a monster, a monster that fumbles with ill-equipped, bloody, and clawed hands to try, and caress Hux, like Hux were something precious, and rare. A monster that howls its righteousness, even as it’s burned with light, and truth, even as its pain extends the longer it shrieks.

Not too unlike Hux, but monstrous in different ways. To Hux, at least, Ren seems to be a much more personal monster, to haunt memories, and appear in nightmares, to steep in his slaughter, take personal joy in the havoc he wreaks – Hux has never liked getting his hands bloody, more than that he always hated the sensory experience of it – but Ren seems to only be satisfied if blood _is_ on his hands.

A monster Hux certainly is, but much less personal. He kills for efficiency, really – too many Rebels? He commands an army – too much support for the Rebels? He destroys the Hosnian system. There are pigs walking his halls disguised as men? He slaughters them as pigs ought to be slaughtered – why feed such creatures, why give them beds, or purpose? It’s a waste - it's more cost-effective to kill them, take the lesser beings out of the gene pool, and further his agenda while he’s at it. Better to cultivate fear and respect, save space, and investments, and time.

In a way, Hux has always been emotionally removed from his murders; sometimes that’s because all he has to do is press some buttons, and an entire system is decimated, and that’s too much death for a human mind to genuinely comprehend.

Sometimes it’s just that the blaster allows him to feel removed from the act of killing altogether – he’s just pulling a trigger, just aiming and shooting, aiming and shooting, watching targets fall.

He felt nothing when he killed Ori. Felt nothing when he killed D’Jac. Felt protective and disgusted when killing that stormtrooper that put his ape-ish hands on Officer Vitaan, but otherwise, he’s been far from his victims. He’s a monster like a black hole – troublingly efficient, uncaring by nature, and capable of immense destruction that seems instinctive to commit.

Ren is a monster, but what breed he is eludes Hux. He’s a special type of monster – he’s killed children while looking them in the eye, that must mean something, something dark, and awful, but – Hux sees a flash of Brendol, unrecognizable beyond his torn flesh, remembers how his young arms trembled, and the hatchet was probably the heaviest object planet-side – he forgives Ren. He forgives Ren immediately. Breed doesn’t matter, really – all that matters is that Hux knows the monster of Ren was _bred_.

Perhaps Ren had as much choice in the matter of becoming a monster as Hux did.

 _You either die a young saint, or survive an old beast_ , Hux thinks bitterly – both representations are inaccurate, and he hates inaccuracy.

If he had died at the hands of Brendol, he wouldn’t have been remembered at all – no one knew he existed. If anyone had known him, they’d say he was lost so young, he had so much promise, so much potential, and how sad that was, but he was among lost loved ones, or some such rubbish. Being received back to a home that has never existed, and never will.

People know he killed Brendol, though, and he knows the things people think – the false rumors that he killed Brendol as a way of proving his superiority to their father, that he killed Brendol for his seat at the Academy, and variations thereof. He was backed into a corner, he survived, and so a beast he became, in the eyes of those with any conscience.

He wonders if Ren has a conscience. He wonders if Ren really believes he’s a star – golden – that he’s not the beast he knows himself to be. He wishes he’d asked more questions while they had waking hours together. Now is not the time – nor does Hux believe there will be time after this. He brushes his fingers against Ren’s knuckles, light as a feather, then sighs, and gingerly removes himself, working diligently to keep from rousing the monster in his bed.

He takes a moment to watch Ren sleeping, admires how Ren’s raven hair splays all over his pillow, how young he looks in his dream-state, then he goes to his quarters in silence. The halls are quiet, and when he reaches his door, he catches Gillash, standing at attention by the viewport, stationed between Nali and Haas, staring at the open doorway when he enters.

“Officer Gillash,” Hux greets, something leaden hanging in the air.

“General Hux, sir.”

“Nali and Haas are stable, I trust?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Hux says plainly, then narrows his eyes in scrutiny, asking, “You haven’t slept at all, have you?”

“No, sir.”

He would tell Gillash to get some rest, but he knows what it is to be a soldier, to be held responsible for the overseeing of lives – even if Gillash were willing to tear his watchful gaze away from Nali, he’d not accept the invitation to sleep. He’d be too worried to fall asleep, anyway.

Distracting him, Millicent all but pounces on his feet, purring her satisfaction at his return. He smiles, and crouches down to give her attention, which she gladly flops over to accept. As he’s scratching her chest, he hears Gillash say, more than ask, “you’re very certain you’ll be dying soon, sir?”

Picking his head up to make eye-contact again, Hux assesses the young officer.

Gillash doesn’t seem all too worried, offended, or judgmental. He’s not the talkative type, either – not likely to share this information unless explicitly asked for it, so Hux nods, unconcerned about the repercussions.

He’s not sure how Gillash was able to tell, but he’s sleep-deprived, and maybe he’s showing his questionable heart on his sleeve more than he means to. It’s that, or Officer Gillash is extraordinarily intuitive, which Hux admits is not outside the realm of possibility.

“I have the utmost faith that Lord Kylo Ren will reverse all space-time to keep you safe, and I do expect to see you at the end of this all,” Gillash says assuredly, “…but in the event that your worries come to fruition, please know it has been… an _incomparable_ honor, and privilege, to work for you, sir.”

“Death never used to worry me, you know,” Hux says, “I’ve never experienced anything to convince me that there is anything beyond known consciousness but oblivion, and that used to comfort me. Oblivion. I used to look forward to the release – the nothingness. A wretched thing – to care after another so deeply that you can’t feel relief at the promise of the greatest relief of all. So terrible, so irrational.”

“I take quite the opposite view, sir,” Gillash mentions politely, “Frankly, I think the universe is the wretched thing – full of anguish, misfortune, suffering, war, anger – you know, I went to my older sister once, asked for a way to alleviate the pain I felt for all those less fortunate. I was young and naïve. She said to me, ‘the pain never goes away. Life is unfair. Some people drink caf, and have the freedom to complain about the weather, and others eat shit, and die.’”

Hux’s brows spring up – Gillash has never used words so crass in front of him. He wonders briefly if Gillash’s sister is a spitfire like Nali. Perhaps Gillash’s remarkable admiration and respect for his female peers is rooted in his relationship with his sister.

 _I shouldn’t care_ , Hux reminds himself.

Attachments have proven most dangerous. Really, Hux ought to have learned by now.

He nods his understanding, and Gillash continues, “sir, my sister is right, and there is little I can do to ever fix any of that – life, as a whole… I confess, I don’t care for most of it. If there’s a God, He is unfeeling, even sadistic, or He is not all-powerful – it’s one or the other, but either way, He’s unreliable. My hands are too small to carry the woes of the galaxy, but they fit quite nicely against Nali’s.”

The room falls silent for a few beats. Gillash is insightful, and well-spoken, and Hux isn’t typically liberal with his ears, especially when it comes to lending them to subordinates, but he’s been finding innumerable exceptions to his once rigid rules lately. He inclines his head a little, encouraging Gillash to continue.

“That’s the only _not_ wretched thing about the universe, to me, sir,” Gillash explains, “Caring for her. That’s not wretched – the rest of existence we should do away with, it’s all so largely a failure. But not her. Not how I feel about her, and how my fingers slot against hers so perfectly – that is not wretched. That is not irrational, or terrible. It is perfect. The only perfect thing there is.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Hux offers nonchalantly, apologizing quietly to Millicent before coming to stand, “I’ll never admit to being wrong, so don’t hold your breath. But I’ll concede to the possibility that you _might_ have a viable point.”

Gillash smiles in return, and then asks, “was there something you came here for, sir?”

“Mm,” Hux answers, “My Alpha blues, and a shower.”

“Your Alpha blues, sir?” Gillash asks, intrigued, “Are those not reserved for the most significant ceremonies?”

“Yes, they are.”

He and Gillash hold eye-contact a bit longer before Gillash just seems to suddenly understand; the ceremony is Hux’s predicted funeral.

“I’ve never wanted to be buried,” Hux adds conversationally, recalling the family plot outside his father’s estate, thinking of Brendol’s grave just outside its perimeters, “I’ve always hoped to be cremated, and scattered to the cosmic wind, but in the event that I die in the next few cycles, and in the event I have no such liberty, to choose how precisely my remains are dealt with, I would like to be in my finest uniform.”

“I understand, sir,” Gillash replies.

Nodding again, Hux leaves the officer, showers in the refresher, shaves closely, parts his hair perfectly, swiping it back the formal way he likes, and then he changes into his Alpha blues.

Routine, protocol, codes, and a call for neurotic precision – a chance for Hux to relax. Even under intense scrutiny, he has always worn his uniforms to perfection.

Underwear is of little importance, but he makes certain it’s color-coordinated anyway. Most of his dress socks are thinned from overuse, so he picks a pair yet unworn. He wants every hair in place, he wants control for just a little longer.

The undershirt comes next – grey, fitted, thin, breathable, and tucked. Then the white collared shirt, light, and tucked as well – the suspenders that eventually strap over his shoulders are more biting than he remembers them being, but he doesn’t think they’ll leave indents. The pants those suspenders attach to are such a dark blue, they're nearly black. Without a single fumble, he works his navy tie into a Merovingian knot, then buttons his federal blue vest atop it all.

The uniform jacket is single-breasted with a close, tailored fit, the buttons are silver, and not a single thread is loose, or uneven. The pants are tight, too – always were, though – and he shines his shoes diligently before tying them in symmetry.

He pins every decoration and honor he’s been awarded over the years to his left chest with care, appreciating the artistry of each one briefly, before pinning it. Then the white gloves – they are not leather – they’re skin-tight still, but flexible, like a second skin. He settles his peaked cap over his shined hair, and runs his gloved finger over the line of the polished visor.

He always did like his peaked cap. It’s white, an elegant cap badge in the shape of the First Order insignia sewn directly above the center of the embroidered band. The band is dark blue with silver, intricate thread-work, and then a silver braided band rests across the front top of the visor.

When he clips the silver buckle of the white belt around his waist, he walks out of the refresher, and grabs his rapier from its mount, slipping it into the holster on the belt’s side.

“Now, who’s that dashing gentleman?”

Hux smiles down at his shining shoes before turning to face Phasma, his white-gloved hand on the handle of his rapier. He looks at her kindly, and she smiles forlornly back.

“Sister.”

Phasma’s expression falters – he’s never called her that. He’s always wanted to, just to see how it feels. It feels right – he’s glad he’s said it.

“Brother,” she greets back experimentally.

Brendol sometimes called Hux ‘brother,’ sometimes he’d called Hux ‘young one,’ or ‘dear brother.’ Hux wishes he knew, or could ever know, if Brendol really held him dear. Then he can hear Ren’s voice, _‘my dear General…’_ – it’s fine, Hux decides. He doesn’t need to be dear to anyone else.

“Where is Ren?”

“Sleeping,” Hux replies, “He will be awake, and worried very shortly, no doubt.”

There’s a brief pause, and when Hux opens his mouth again, Phasma interrupts him.

“You’ve said more than enough.”

He looks at her, wondering what she means. Her eyes are glassy, she looks unrested, and her hair looks thinner than usual, for some reason. He hates causing her worry. She knows that already, though, so there’s not much point in apologizing.

“If you say anything more, or try to test out any ‘last words,’ on me, I’ll know. You’re not to die, Hux. I can’t… _do_ this… not without you. So, it’s not an option. You’ll sit in that pod, in that fine uniform, you’ll be anxious, and bored, and useless, for however many cycles it takes for Ren to neutralize whatever threat there is, and then you will come right back here. And you’ll wear that crown, and Ren will spend the rest of his life atoning.”

 _I’m probably going to die, though_ , Hux thinks – of course, he wants to tell her how much she means to him, how much he cares about her, how good a friend she has been to him, how loyal, and wonderful a sister she has been to him all these years, but then again… she knows all of that already too.

She’s known from the start. From that moment she unstrapped him from his hospital bed, she’s been able to read him, has known what he’s needed before he has considered he’s in need of anything at all. She has kept him right all these years, and she knows that.

She hates redundancy – they both do. Always have. Such a waste of time to repeat things – one expression of sentimentality is worth a thousand, there’s no point in repetition. Repetition only serves to drain significance from the initial show of affection.

He’s still compelled to tell her something. Anything. There’s little she doesn’t know about him after all these years spent together, though, and they’ve never been ones for small-talk.

She might not know that he’s scared. That he’s up in a tree again, but, now, he has a rapier, and no dagger, and the danger is vague, and unfocused, and certainly less merciful than Brendol. He is standing in the finest uniform awarded to men in the First Order’s service, his awards glisten, and sparkle on his jacket, and here he is, frightened to die. Frightened at the oncoming nothingness. Frightened of having known everything for a brief time, and now, being forced to let it go.

“You don’t mind not knowing my name, then?”

The begging of that question draws Gillash’s attention to the two of them.

Phasma’s jaw works, her eyes are giving her away – she’d like to kill Ren, and be done with this all. She’d like an easy way out. She knows that killing Ren would only further complicate matters too, though, and she knows, deep down, there is no easy way out, and of course she wants to know his name. She always has. She’s never been insulted by his avoidance of the subject – she always waited her turn in patience.

He’s not the suicidal young boy she found mostly dead in a scarlet, overflowing tub – he’s a man now, or something close to it. He can’t, or won’t, waste their limited time together on sentimentality or idle chit-chat, there’s so little he knows how to say or give, but this is all he has left.

His name.

It’s all he’s ever really had.

“That’s… not for me to know.”

“I’m asking you,” Hux says earnestly, “You don’t want me to speak further on my thoughts as they come – that’s fine. To be honest, I can hardly stand the sentimentality running amok in my head. I won’t share it, if it pains you. But if you’d like to know my name before Ren and I depart, I would not be opposed to telling you. So, would you like to know?”

“ _No_ ,” she answers immediately, much to Hux’s surprise, “It’s my insurance. I want to know it. I want… I want to know your name, Hux. I do. So, leave without telling me. You’ve always come through for me – against all odds. You won’t let me down now – I believe that. I believe in you. I always have, I always will. Leave with Ren, and know I am waiting, and when you come back, that’s when you’ll tell me. Deal?”

She offers her hand to shake, just like she did when they first agreed to be friends, and he lets go of his rapier to take it.

He doesn’t dare promise her a thing, but whenever Phasma’s hand has reached out for his, he has reached back, and he’ll be damned if this is the day he turns his back to that hand. If she’d like to delude herself that everything will be fine, he won’t deny her that comfort. He won’t guarantee his return either, though; he cares too much about her to lie to her like that.

“If I believed in this type of thing, I might believe that Brendol is thankful for you,” Hux lets slip, still gripping Phasma’s hand, “He was a rubbish older brother – not that he had many role models to… my point is… I… chose my family. I chose you. I do, everyday. And, I’m… I’m grateful. That’s – that’s all. That’s all I’ll say.”

“Treasonous,” Phasma replies, watery eyes, and quivering attempt at a smile, “Perhaps Brendol would hate me. Blood is thicker than water.”

“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.”

“What?”

Hux smirks, and expounds, “that’s the entire phrase. Everyone uses it incorrectly, and out of context. The whole of that turn of phrase is, ‘the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,’ meaning that the bonds we make outside our relatives are the ones that withstand time and trial.”

“Now, that’s the way to go,” Phasma says with a laugh, “An all-knowing smart ass to the very end. Even in the most solemn moments, a compulsive need to correct any errors within your line of vision.”

Smiling a bit shyly at that, Hux nods, and lets go of her hand slowly.

Both Hux and Phasma turn their heads in unison when the doors to Hux’s quarters open again. Ren is standing there, wild-eyed, hair unruly in just his sleepwear pants. He’s a little out of breath – he must have started running before he was even fully awake. His dark eyes swallow Hux like light to a black hole, his mouth just slightly agape. Kylo's inner voice is suddenly, and involuntary, in Hux’s head.

_Beautiful so beautiful **Stars** how is he so beautiful –_

“ _Ren_ ,” Hux stresses, his face heating up.

He knows no one else heard it, but it’s still more affection than he can withstand. An onslaught of blaster fire is easier to confront than Ren’s overwhelming fondness.

“Wha -" Ren starts, reassesses, then says, “Sorry. You… I woke, and you… you’re alright?”

“Of course,” Hux replies, turning more toward him, “Not all too pleasant, waking up alone when you don’t expect to be, is it?”

“Don’t punish me,” Ren pleads, his eyes not so much as flickering to any other face but Hux’s, “I spent months in deprivation chambers, positive you were with me, only to come to my senses, and find myself alone. I thought… when I woke, and you weren’t there… I thought… it was possible… I thought – never mind. It’s not important what I thought. You’re fine. You’re fine, right? You’re fine. That’s all that’s important. You’re fine.”

“Are you very cross with me?” Hux asks honestly – he supposes Ren probably has paid enough for that particular betrayal. It’s a grudge he lets go of, and feels leave him like a feather on the wind – he thinks for a second that he forgives Ren too easily. This has always been the case, though.

“No,” Ren answers, brows curving in with concern, straightening his back, breath evening out, “No, of course not. I was only worried.”

There are telling bruises and scratches all along Ren’s torso, and while Hux is privately satisfied by the look of them on Ren, he isn’t all too keen on having others see him so revealed – knowing immediately what they’ve been getting up to alone with just a glance.

“Come in, Ren – we’ve some time before departure. Use my shower, and dress. It would seem we have a schedule, the two of us.”

_“You are **endlessly** vexing.”_

_“Come, General,” Ren invited, departing the med bay, “you and I have an engagement.”_

_“What? Right now?”_

_“No time like the present. Now, follow me.”_

_There was the sound of aggravated footfalls, boots smacking the ground at an irritated pace._

_"You know, some of us have schedules to keep to."_

_"So I've heard."_

_"This is inane, and a waste of my time."_

_"But pacing relentlessly in front of the control panels, and putting biblical fear into new cadets is a much better use of your time."_

_"As a matter of fact, it **is** a better use of my time, seeing as I have an army and ship to run."_

_"That must be so hard for you."_

_Hux’s long-suffering sigh, followed by his clipped voice, “I have a meeting in two standard hours.”_

_“Then for the next two standard hours, it would appear your schedule is with me.”_

_Hux doesn’t remember clenching his fists, but Ren does – Ren remembers hearing the creak of his leather gloves, and feeling amused by his ability to rouse, and frustrate Hux._

Hux can’t be sure which one of them pressed the memory into the other, or if they both remembered that interaction simultaneously, and are nostalgic for simpler times, when there were less lethal schedules, familiar routines, simple life debts, and a pull-and-push to their dynamic. Now, there’s just a pull-pull, a desire for closeness so intense, it’s difficult to bear.

_Am I still endlessly vexing?_

_Always_ , Hux responds readily; a Hux from long ago would have spat in disgust at the undeniable tone of endearment to that response, but it can’t be helped. Hux doesn’t have the energy to help it, anyway. Let Ren hear it, and feel it – what cause is there to hide? He can’t hide from Ren anymore, and he’s mostly lost the desire to.

_Do remember there’s an owed dance on that agenda, General._

_I couldn’t forget if I tried_ , Hux replies simply – simple, because it’s true.

Ren stops staring at him, starts walking past them all to get to the refresher, and as he passes Hux, another thought floats by.

_You are magnificent in that uniform._

_Magnificent? You don’t think that’s a little overdone?_

_It hardly scratches the surface_ , Ren responds, _You look superb, brilliant, glorious, bewitching, astonishing, incredible, awe-inspiring, breath-taking – I can keep going, would you like me to?_

_That’s hardly necessary._

How does he manage to sound shaken and embarrassed even in his own head? And how can he feel Ren’s rapidly expanding ego at the shared experience of his emotion? It ought to be humiliating, but somehow it's validating more than anything else.

Without meaning to, Hux shakes his flustered face, looking down, and away. His voice is a little rough when it finally comes out.

“Thank you,” Hux whispers as Ren passes.

He sees the corner of Ren’s lips twitch up into a smile before he’s behind the closed door of his refresher.

This open channel – it wouldn’t have been possible without Ren’s betrayal. Hux is intellectual enough to know that. And when he loathed Ren, it was never sincere – he never really loathed Ren, he loathed himself for thinking Ren would somehow morph into someone else - someone who wasn't a foolish brat with delusions of grandeur.

Truth be told, he wouldn’t care for any other version of Ren. He’s glad Ren didn’t change – he’s glad Ren is still the illogical, emotionally-explosive, hypersensitive, extraordinary monster he is.

Touching at his neck, Hux feels his pulse; forty-four beats per minute. Too high. It doesn’t matter. Ren is who he has always been – precisely the monster Hux has always needed.

Phasma is staring worriedly at Hux’s fingers on his own pulse. He removes his hand, and says heavy-handedly, a ridiculous endearment understated, and overstated all at once, “that man.”

That man. That human, monster, cyclone, seemingly indestructible unstoppable force, and cause for Hux’s premature grey hairs. Absurd, really, that Hux’s heart should betray him this way for Kylo Ren. It could be no other way, though. Sinner and monster he may be, but damn Hux if Ren isn’t the finest, sweetest torture he’s never deserved. Damn him if he’ll ever let Ren go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Melanie, uhm, is there something special about Jardom I haven't caught onto until now?"  
> Yes! (one of you has - you know who you are ;D) - if you go back on chapters including him, some hints have been dropped about what precisely might be so special about Jardom. That Kylo and Hux BOTH acknowledge there's something strange and remarkable about Jardom is no coincidence. ;]  
> "Melanie, PhasMA AND HUX ARE FAMILY AND I AM UPSET"  
> i understand  
> "MeLANIE THE RING -"  
> i wilL GET TO IT  
> "Melanie, Hux's uniform is highly detailed. Is it important?"  
> If I took the time out to describe it in such high detail, yeah.  
> "Melanie, are you safe from Hurricane Matthews?"  
> Sorta? It should be hitting us today. I guess we'll see.  
> "Melanie, Hux iS SO GONE ON KYLO"  
> yes, yes he is  
> "Melanie, is this chapter the last one that will be from Hux's POV?"  
> No! We'll get much more!  
> "Melanie, will there be more smut?"  
> Yes, my friends. There will be. <3  
> "Melanie, is that quote about 'blood is thicker than water' true?"  
> Yes! I always hate hearing people use it incorrectly! If you didn't know that before, now you've been properly educated by General Hux!
> 
> Hope you enjoy the update!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: there's a sex scene in here! If you'd like to skip it, skip the lines, "Kylo leaves no room..." until the line "What is it, Hux?" All important details you skipped over will be summarized in the bottom notes!
> 
> "Melanie! Wall sex??? You spoil us!"  
> MissMegh, I hope you're satisfied lmao <3

The amount of time Hux spends saying heartfelt goodbyes to Millicent is very nearly ridiculous.

He takes off one of those white gloves just to scratch her chin and cheek properly, behind her ears, and the more he dotes on her, the more she purrs, and pushes against his hand, and the more time he spends on her, muttering things Kylo tries not to overhear. Hux looks at her with such tenderness, Kylo wonders at it.

Like a poison dart, Kylo targets his energy at the base of Hux’s head, and sends the precise, butterfly needle of his focus there, fast as lightning, just looking for an emotion attached to ‘Millicent,’ anything that might explain why it’s been close to an hour since Hux said, ‘wait – must say goodbye to Millicent.’

There are a few images offered – the first time he picked her up from the ground, intent on taking her inside his quarters on base. He had cradled her like a baby, not held her under her arms, and let her dangle like Kylo imagined he might have. No, Hux cradled her delicately, and she let herself be cradled, just looked up at him with big, shining eyes.

She was scared the first night of her abduction – she hid under his bed. He had made some makeshift cat toys; fuzzy flowers attached to the end of string, collected feathers he swept over the floor, trying to goad her into playing. She wouldn’t play, though, and he worried she didn’t actually care for him as much as he first thought.

Being under a spotlight doesn’t bother Hux as much as it used to – when he was young, when he was little, he hated drawing attention to himself. He associated garnering attention with punishment or judgment, and the Academy had taught him that the friendships and attentions he once craved were dangerous, rabid things he couldn’t control. He wondered if Millicent was the same as him, scared as he once was – that perhaps, if he pretended she weren’t there at all, she might come out from under the bed.

_Sitting on the floor, Hux picks up one of his holopads, opens a personal file of saved poetry, and starts reading aloud. He is four stanzas into something complicated, that Kylo admittedly doesn’t understand a word, of when Millicent ventures out. He sees her tentative steps in his periphery, and is awash with gladness, and victory; he compliments her taste in poets, and in response, she sits down a foot or so away from him, and watches as he reads more._

_In that moment, Hux thinks to himself, quite happily, ‘this will work.’_

There’s countless nights of Hux sleeping in uncomfortable positions just so Millicent could sleep in the crux of his arm, splayed out over his stomach, or bundled heavily on his crotch, or even more heavily on his chest. He sometimes woke to Millicent curled up on top of his head, hogging his pillow, and purring away, making vibrations rattle through his skull. He never minded – not even a little.

Hux is not, and never has been, a tactile person – always found it inappropriate, or disconcerting somehow. He never minded Millicent being tactile, though, and he adapted to her – pet, scratched, and rubbed her as much as she pleased, gave her all the affection and attention she could possibly want. She is so adored by him, and she seems to know that too.

There are memories of him speaking aloud to her, talking out battle strategies, explaining the importance of certain accessories on his different uniforms as he dressed for special occasions – he would sing in her company too. He’d sing in the shower as he often does still, but Millicent is more often than not, curled up in his sink, listening, and waiting to follow him out of the refresher.

There are more sleep cycles lost to overtime work, sitting by his viewport with her, and teaching her about the nearby nebulae, and visible galaxies, as if she could understand what he was saying. He shared his dinners with her too – spoiled, she is.

There is a distinct memory that comes then – _Ren has departed, been gone for several cycles from **Aurora** , and Hux is unable to sleep. Has been sleepless for some time now; he sometimes thinks he’s sleeping when he’s awake, because surely the universe wouldn’t be so cruel as to take Ren away from him so soon after having received him. Then he remembers that the universe has never given a damn about him, and why would it start now? _

_He tosses and turns, restless, irritated, and insistent like a fever._

_Auditory hallucinations have been appearing again. He hears Ren’s voice sometimes, and strangely enough, he hears Ren’s breathing too – he has memorized the sound and cadence of it. The specific **breath** of Kylo Ren, what it is supposed to sound like right next to him, how grasping it is in laughter, how labored it becomes in sparring, and kissing, what it feels like against his lips, his neck. It is during these tossing hours that are meant for sleep that he hears the breathing, and feels a dull ache in his chest._

_He sighs deeply, and Millicent, seeing Hux finally stop moving for a moment, takes the opportunity to jump onto his bed._

_“Yes, Millie?”_

_She readily walks onto his chest, tucking her arms and legs in, and lying down there, looking a bit like a loaf of bread. She stares at him, and he stares right back._

_Hux thinks she’s trying to give him her condolences._

_“You know,” **that I miss him.**_

_She continues to stare, and Hux runs a hand over her back before settling it on the back of her neck, rubbing his thumb back and forth over her head._

_“Please don’t take offense, darling. Your company is always a blessing. I had… I’ve grown used to him, I suppose. Too used to him. You know, I nearly… I nearly told him my name. Was going to. Nearly got it out, but I…”_

_Millicent tilts her head, and he sighs again, “well, you understand. You always understand, clever girl.”_

_She purrs against his curling fingers, and he wants to cry like a child, wants the throbbing pain of a chasm where his heart should be to vanish just as simply as Ren has – Millicent’s warm, though, and soft, and more present than any human has ever offered to be, besides Phasma. This isn’t something he can talk to Phasma about, though._

_His eyes feel hot, and he hates his deplorable sentiment, how twined he’s found himself with Ren – this **missing**. Missing Ren. It’s torturous, and this heavy ache at the core of him feels like a physical tumor he wishes someone could remove. He knows it can’t, and won’t, be removed, though._

_Maybe Millicent feels the ache in his chest, and that’s why she’s laid there – to soothe the pain of Ren’s absence._

_He smiles wanly at Millicent, and she slow-blinks at him._

_“You’re a good girl, Millie.”_

“You’re a good girl, Millie.”

Those statements almost synchronized pull Kylo from Hux’s memories.

Dropping a kiss to the top of her head, Hux holds her stare just a little longer, and then lets her settle on his pillow. He puts his glove back on, stands gracefully, and looks at Kylo.

“Battle stations, then?”

“Yes,” Kylo answers hesitantly.

Phasma is already at the control bridge, Jardom has given his best wishes for their safe travels and returns, Nali and Haas are still deep in a Theta state, and now all that’s left is Tython. Kylo wears his helmet down the halls as they make their way to the hangar, his black robes fluttering behind him, and his hood up, concealing even more of himself.

One might think it strange that Kylo and Hux say nothing to each other on the way to the hangar – there is much to be said, but perhaps no way to say it.

There have been few times Kylo has been at a complete loss for words – he’s almost always found enough anger or anxiety in him to spout _something_ – anything – just to make noise, to feel the vibration of his own energy in his throat and force it unto unwilling ears. He has no words now, though – nothing seems appropriate; it all either falls short or is too much to say. And it doesn’t feel proper to say it now, anyway, even if Kylo knew how to say what he wants to.

He follows Hux into his pod, shutting the door behind him, unsure of why, and it feels bizarrely like a hateful reversal of what transpired between them nearly a standard year ago.

The pod is designed for long travel – it has a shower, a bed, a stocked fridge, a table with room for more than one to sit. Kylo hates admitting that he doesn’t know how long this might take, so he admits nothing. Hux knows, anyway. Hux always knows.

Hux takes his combination cap off, and sets it on the table with his gloves. He makes a half-turn to face Kylo, and asks, “well? What are you lingering about for?”

To respond appropriately, Kylo takes off his helmet, and places it next to Hux’s discarded accessories. He takes his gloves off as well, watching his hands rather than what he is sure will be an unreadable gaze.

“I’ve never seen you in this uniform.”

“Few have.”

Kylo has a brief, fleeting urge to kill everyone else who has seen Hux so beautifully adorned – that his eyes should be the only ones in the galaxy so blessed. The impulse passes without incident, thankfully.

“You look…”

More loss for words; it’s frustrating how useless Hux can render Kylo.

Kylo could list off every flattery he knows, but it wouldn’t do justice to the art form that _is_ General Aurelien Hux.

He is all an Emperor should be; majestic in his own right, graceful, frightfully effective, unforgivingly efficient, cold as his eyes imply, and more dangerous than the narrow of his waist makes predictable. There is a class to him that even Ben Solo’s royal mother never quite had, and an air about him – an air of knowing, like an old soul. Like the galaxy and all it’s goings-on are a song he’s heard before, and regrets to hear again.

Hux looks like _power_. Like the embodiment of control, and danger, and beauty; unreal in a way. Unattainable. Always just out of Kylo’s reach. There’s no other way of explaining it, and if Hux asked what he meant by looking like the physical manifestation of the concept of power, Kylo would have no other words to better explain it.

Those sharp blue eyes are gentle now, human, his posture is strict, straight, and so ingrained at this point, Hux probably wouldn’t know how to relax if he ever had the chance to.

A memory flickers through Kylo’s head of seeing Hux in his pajamas, seeing him with his knees pulled up on the couch in the common area, hiding his face as he laughed, his hair askew, no tension in his neck or hands. His bare feet. How his toes curled. He was human then, too.

Kylo supposes it’s untrue then, that Hux wouldn’t know how to relax. He manages to relax somehow with Kylo. Kylo can’t imagine how or why, but Hux does it.

“Well,” Hux interrupts his reverie, “don’t keep me in suspense.”

“Incomparable. Sorry,” Kylo says with a small measure of embarrassment, “Couldn’t come up with anything more or equally handsome than you are right now.”

“…look at me.”

Dragging his eyes up from the floor, Kylo plants them firmly on Hux’s.

“You’ve shut the channel.”

“I – yes,” Kylo answers, glancing away momentarily, “I will – the focus to go into hyper speed all while cloaking three pods, and still maintaining my control over Nali and Haas –"

“It’s okay, Ren.”

Tilting his head curiously, Kylo asks, “why do you do that? Why do you only call me by my first name when we’re being intimate, and revert back to formalities even when we’re alone?”

The blush that colors Hux’s cheekbones is flattering.

Valiant attempt as it is, Kylo can’t remember what it was like to loathe Hux. He even hates his former self that once did – he resents that old self for denying him the pleasure of Hux’s attention and affection. How was there ever a time he looked on Hux with disdain? How was there ever a time he looked on Hux, and felt _hate_? What sense in the universe could that possibly make?

He can’t remember. It used to – it used to make sense to hate Hux, to want to hurt him, to want to be rid of him. Now, though, nothing in the universe would make any sense at all without the way he adores Hux.

“Is it that my first name is only to be used during remarkable times? Or is it that you forget yourself when I’ve managed to snare your attention?”

“A bit of both, I suppose,” Hux answers honestly, something else lingering at the back of his throat. Something secret. Something that wants, and something Kylo wants so much it tickles the tips of his fingers for being so close.

“Will you ever…”

The way their eyes meet again makes Kylo too nervous to finish asking, ‘let me call you by your first name?’

If Hux willingly telling Kylo his first name was some grand gesture of faith and longing, then what would it mean for Kylo to use it? He’s quite sure he’s not allowed to use it.

He remembers the ugly curl of Hux’s snarl, how he hissed, and those sharp canines had never looked so venomous before – he remembers how Hux had shouted, _“that is **General** Hux to you, you **ingrate**!”_

Cringing an inch at just the memory of that burn, Kylo wonders, truly between the two of them, who the more dangerous is.

Kylo has always had to learn the hard way; always learning that the stovetop is not to be touched only after burning himself, always learning people are double-edged only after being faced with the gradients of Hux.

“Will I ever what?”

“Nothing,” Kylo denies, shaking his head, his hair falling loosely around him, “Nevermind.”

“You’ve still not told me what you’re doing here. Shouldn’t we be in a mad rush?”

Brows pulling together, Kylo thinks that Hux is right. He should be more worried than he is – he should be on his way already. It’s so difficult to shift his feet, though. It’s so impossible to move.

“Ah…” Hux says nearly inaudibly, as if he has only just realized something he ought not to have asked after.

When Kylo looks up into Hux’s eyes again, there’s the wisdom, and power, and control Kylo so badly envies, and desires, and cherishes, and marvels at.

“The last we parted was not so… gentle. To either of us. You are worried to leave me again.”

Deciding not to respond, since Hux already knows, and understands, Kylo continues to look at him; heat spreads across his chest, and stomach, and his heart feels turned over.

“Do you think our partings will always be so bittersweet?” Kylo inquires.

Hux meditates on that for a moment, then replies carefully, “I think… there will come a day we no longer part.”

To resist putting his hands where they have not been invited, Kylo curls his fingers into his palms. He so hopes that’s true – he so hopes Hux is right. And Hux is almost always right, so that’s a good bet.

It comforts Kylo beyond reason that Hux wants what he wants – that they should not be so far away from one another again. That Hux _wants_ him, and is not resigned to him, as Han Solo was, that Hux _wants_ him, and does not care for Kylo _despite_ his hideous flaws, but _for_ them as Leia Organa could not find how to do. Hux _wants_ him, and does not punish him for thoughts, and feelings outside of his control as Luke Skywalker once did…

General Hux is, by all accounts, frigid, distant, controlling, manipulative, difficult, infuriating, devious, power-hungry, greedy, self-serving, cruel, unforgiving, and unfeeling in the face of devastation. He is narcissistic, neurotic, resentful, hateful, inhumane to those that adore him, a maddening perfectionist, a murderer, and war criminal. His heart is less like the homey, tender hearth of others’, and more like a shadowy cavern, too cold and damp to light a fire in at all. More than that, the galaxy, by and large, would likely agree that General Hux is constructed entirely of inexcusable and unmistakable malevolence, too dangerous to allow the existence of.

And Kylo loves him.

His heart lurches uncomfortably, and then doubles its speed, his palms going sweaty, his nails slipping against the skin of the heart of his palm.

General Hux. General Hux.

General Aurelien Roane Hux – a vile, domineering man, a man of murderous rage, raised on daggers, and blood, and droids. A man, at first glance, entirely unfeeling, carved from stone, unmovable; a man who thinks of nothingness, oblivion, as satisfying, and tantalizing as sugar to a grubby-handed child. A man who jumps to his death just to see who will scramble to save it, a man who shouts at those that succeed in doing so. He feels an inherent right to decide whether or not others’ lives have value, and even if they do, that value is never equal to his own. He will use the blade of his dagger or tongue with a surgeon’s precision – on himself, on others, and those unfortunate others that die with their blood spotting Hux’s handsome face – Hux kills them for hurting him,  _or_ helping him. There is no knowing what will drive Hux to take a life.

Sometimes Hux kills one, because that one is his brother, and he ‘does what must be done,’ and sometimes Hux kills one, because that one is a concerned roommate moving a placating hand over his shoulder after he’s been wounded. Sometimes Hux kills one to prove a point, sometimes Hux kills one just to show that he can, sometimes Hux kills one, because he feels nothing at all.

Kylo remembers how the shining point of that dagger looked, floating midair, and so very close to ending his life.

Sometimes Hux kills one, because he feels _everything_.

The galaxy might say Hux lives in blackness, the void of unspeakable evils, and pride, but they are mistaken. Kylo sees Hux in all his shades of grey – grey, and blue, and gold.

Hux might be all those things, but he also quite likes blossoms. He enjoys dancing, all while despising the actual occasions that call for it. He favors icing over the actual cake it usually adorns, and would eat copious amounts of sugar everyday of his life if unchecked, but he likes his caf black and bitter.

He likes his hands to be held – or at least, he seems to like it when Kylo holds them. Hux sees the extraordinary where others see nothing at all, opportunity where others see imminent failure, and Hux likes being smart. He knows he’s smart – he knows his own genius, and he likes being handed a puzzle as much as he might complain about being made to solve it. He likes greenery, colorful gardens, shining, clear waters, and smooth stones.

He likes being bested in sparring – he loves to know that there is more to learn, a move or tactic he’s not yet considered, and he loves to see others’ genius at work. He quiets his ghosts by drawing them, he adores his cat like no other human, he wants for children – _Kylo’s_ children – he wants to do better than was done by him, he wants justice when cruelty shadows the plains of his hard-earned peace. Justice never comes for him, though – it never has. It’s why he slits jugulars, and mops up blood across corridor hallways.

When cruelty has no one to answer to, Hux is waiting there to meet it, bearing his blade, and his sharp canines, and a will to survive.

Hux gets handsy after too much whiskey, his laughter is charming, and his shyness about it even more so. The luxury of his bed set satisfies him to no end, he keeps, reads, and actually understands ancient poetry, likes instrumental music that swells and spins. His singing voice is low and even, his lips are full, and his kisses brim with feeling. When his guards are down, when he feels safe, his heart booms, drums, and races, and his eyes glimmer like coveted diamonds.

Kylo loves him.

“It’s your turn.”

“Sorry?” Hux asks.

Kylo’s voice is rough, just about shaking with nerves.

“It’s your turn,” he repeats, “I kissed you first. Now, it’s your turn.”

Kylo probably could have explained that better, but his brain isn’t offering much in way of eloquence. It doesn’t matter, though – Hux understands him all the same.

They’re in a mirror now, all turned around – Hux is leaving, having his patience, trust, and loyalty tested, the one closest to the navigation panel, the one that will watch Kylo turn his back and leave.

When they were here last, Kylo caged Hux against a wall, and kissed him. Kissed him for the first time.

And now, Hux approaches him patiently, crossing the space between them, walking with that grace Kylo finds irresistible.

“Well, Ren,” Hux begins, eyes cast low, voice deep, and whispering, “may I kiss you?”

Kylo nods silently, and watches Hux’s hands as they rise up to frame his face. First, Hux’s fingertips graze over Kylo’s scar, gently, and sweetly, more in reverence than some simple acknowledgement. Kylo fights the urge to let his eyes flutter shut – he wants to watch.

Then Hux’s thumbs brush the corners of Kylo’s lips like Kylo often does to him, and Hux closes the remaining distance. His kiss his patient, his hands are smooth, and warm, and Kylo returns the gesture, holding onto Hux’s jaw, and tilting him just so. Hux follows the leaning with a soft hum, his skin is flustered under Kylo’s palms, his lips move so willingly, so pliant, so ready, and fearless, and Kylo loves him, loves him, _loves him, **loves him**_ –

Hux’s belt comes undone, and slips from its loops just as Kylo’s tongue slips past Hux’s lips. Hux’s muffled noise might be one of partial protest, but his grip on Kylo only hardens. The buttons of his jacket are so carefully undone, his collared shirt unbuttoned with focus as well, his undershirt un-tucked with ease – “ _ah_ – Kylo, we don’t have time –"

“I will always have time for you,” Kylo swears, his voice sounding rougher than before, and visibly surprising Hux, “Always.”

“You seem a touch mad,” Hux observes breathlessly.

Kylo doesn’t smile when he asks, “you’re only realizing that now?”

He leaves no room or time for Hux to answer that; he takes off his upper and outer most layers, and then Hux is backing up, putting a foot or two between them. His pupils are blown, and dark, his icy eyes like near-white rings, his hair mussed the way Kylo likes – the way Kylo _loves_.

Splaying his hands over Kylo’s chest, Hux pushes, and all but throws Kylo against the nearest wall. His arms wind around Kylo’s neck, and with his shoes off now, he’s another inch shorter, so he pulls just a little to bring Kylo closer to him.

Kylo’s hands sweep over Hux’s flanks, lingering on the narrow of his waist, and then sliding under Hux’s thighs. He effortlessly lifts Hux up, and turns them around, relishing the way Hux’s legs circle his hips so securely.

“We don’t have –"

“Yes, we do,” Kylo interrupts, outstretching a hand to grab the case that comes flying at them.

Hux leans his head back against the wall, catching his breath – his blush his spread over his face and neck, down his chest, and his lips are dark, and kiss-swollen.

He recognizes the slick evidently stolen from his quarters.

“You planned this?”

“Not really,” Kylo confesses, “Didn’t want you to be bored. Wanted you to think of me while I’m away too. There’s a pencil and pad under the cot as well.”

Hux’s knowing smirk melts away at the admission, and Kylo lets Hux down long enough to let the General get his uniform pants off, and out of the way. When he’s bare, flushed all over and still in want, Kylo undoes his own black pants just enough to get his length out. He really ought to make haste, but he doesn’t. He takes his time.

He coats himself until there’s a shine and drip at the head, and then he Force-holds Hux to the wall, lifting him up off the ground, and helping spread his legs. They’ve been at this with such regularity since Kylo’s return that he starts with two, wet fingers, and is not so caught off-guard when Hux’s nails scrape at his shoulders.

They’re quiet as they were during the walk to the pods – there is too much and too little to say, and they both know it. There is only hard breath, gasping, throaty, wanton noises, and the slick sound of skin against skin.

When Kylo is finally sliding into Hux, he keeps Hux up with his own strength. He looks down to admire the way Hux’s abdomen muscles spasm, how his throbbing cock looks pink and dark against the milky tone of his skin, the apparent tension in his thighs as he keeps them wrapped around either side of Kylo’s waist.

Once Kylo’s fully seated, he looks to Hux’s face, searching for signs to stop, or never stop, or anything at all, really. Hux’s eyes are shut, though, his head is tilted back, his neck is arched, and on display in this hypnotizing, submissive way, and Kylo thrusts without meaning to.

A long, sultry moan escapes Hux’s chest, and his hand goes to cover his mouth in shyness or something Kylo doesn’t have the blood pressure currently to tolerate. He grabs Hux’s wrist, and pins it above his head. He takes the liberty of grabbing Hux’s other hand as well.

Kylo’s legs are shaking, but he’s stable. All that’s keeping Hux up now is the incline of his hips, and where they’re joined. His hands are twined with Hux’s above Hux’s head – he loves it. He loves how their hands slot together, he loves how Hux trusts Kylo not to drop him, he loves Hux’s parted, glistening lips, he loves Hux’s hair splayed out on the wall like a halo. He loves Hux.

He loves Hux.

He loves Hux, and maybe Hux wants no part of it – maybe Hux doesn’t feel the same, but that’s fine. Kylo has gone without love as far back as he can remember, and he will wait for Hux, and he will do whatever it is he must for Hux to love him back. He has gotten rather good at being patient, he thinks, and Hux instills in him the power and motivation to conquer all the galaxy. He can wait, and he will do what must be done for Hux to love him.

He has never wanted anything before like he wants Hux’s love.

He begins to think he might just die without it.

“Stars, you’re beautiful…”

Kylo looks up at Hux from behind his curtains of hair, his face feels hot, and he might look confused. He feels a little confused. He’s rather sure he didn’t say that out loud, but it sounds like he did.

“What?”

“You’re strong,” Hux continues, “…so strong. Tall, handsome, with eyes dark as space – short of breath, and so focused on the physical task at hand… you just look beautiful.”

Kylo’s cock throbs inside Hux, and Hux feels it, smiling devilishly at him.

“I want you, Kylo,” Hux murmurs, gaze serious, and oversaturated with emotion, “I want you. Get out of your head – it’s a dangerous neighborhood. Stay here, with me. I want you to stay.”

What Hux means is to stay present – to stay present in this very moment, to not escape into his own head, but rather stay connected to time, and Hux, himself. And, Kylo knows that, but those words are music to Kylo’s ears. Music that’s a little tragic, maybe in a minor key, but it’s marvelous all the same, and Kylo descends on Hux, kissing him, and thrusting up into him with hard, measured ruts.

The dexterous hands under Kylo’s tense up, and spasm like he might want to be clawing at Kylo’s back, or chest – sometimes, when Hux is buried deep in Kylo, he runs his nails down Kylo’s sides, leaving red marks that fade within the hour, but they’re beautiful while they last. He nuzzles at Hux’s jaw, encouraging him to dip his head back so that Kylo has better access to his throat.

The broad of Kylo’s tongue pushes against Hux’s jugular, making him gasp, and writhe, and tighten around Kylo enough to make him see stars. Kylo’s pants have fallen just enough that Hux’s heels have found the dimples in Kylo’s lower back, and they’re digging there.

When Kylo opens his eyes as much as he can, to gaze down at Hux, he finds Hux’s eyes inexplicably misty. He worries he’s hurt Hux, but before he can even vocalize that, Hux shakes his head, dismissing the fear, and he smiles, still gasping, “you’re wonderful – you’re wonderful, so wonderful, just don’t stop.”

He’d like for Hux to call him by that pet name he’s taken to calling Kylo – his ‘menace.’ Kylo’s gotten used to hearing it whimpered, and groaned, and sworn around, just as he’s gotten used to feeling Hux’s nails in his back, and on his chest, down his arms, his thighs, his sides. Just as he’s gotten used to having Hux, being inside Hux, having Hux inside him, kissing Hux, touching Hux, holding Hux, loving Hux –

“Faethea,” Kylo somehow manages to mutter.

“W-what?” Hux asks, following his question with a very undignified, “ _unh_  –" at Kylo’s upward thrust.

“It’s the star – the one I’m going to propose to you with. Near Malachor. It's beautiful. Like you. Faethea,” Kylo explains, sweat starting to shine over his naked torso.

“ _Kylo_!” Hux hisses, as if it’s a curse, or a swear, as if he’s angry, but he’s not – Kylo looks up just in time to watch Hux’s eyes shut tightly, two thin tears slipping down from either cheek.

It takes a second for Kylo to realize the heart pounding at a hundred beats per minute is not his own.

He’s very nearly worried again, but Hux looks like he’s happy somehow – his brow is furrowed, his mouth is not in a smile, but he’s still gasping, he’s still rolling his hips to meet Kylo’s in time, and his lashes are flitting like butterflies’ wings. He’s happy – Kylo doesn’t know how he knows this without use of the Force, but he just knows it.

Perhaps when one loves a person, they become suddenly privy to that information – maybe his and Hux’s souls are so knotted together now, he can feel Hux’s happiness as his own, without the Force playing any role at all.

Loving Hux might be the final proof that Kylo has been void of goodness from the very start, but if that’s what it means to love Hux, then so be it.

“I’ll have it,” Kylo promises, breath not much more than a struggled huff, “When I return – you’ll have it, you’ll wear it. I’ll stay.”

“ _Oh - oh, **Hells**_!” Hux weeps in a wavering voice, and octave Kylo has never before heard.

Without much more warning than that, and much to Kylo’s shock, Hux comes first, and entirely untouched. He tightens up sporadically around Kylo as he does, his hands in white-knuckled fists, arms wound like bow strings, and back arching, legs spreading. His cock jumps on his stomach, striping his chest, and leaving a splatter high enough it paints the hollow of Hux’s neck. When Kylo laps at it, sucking at the sensitive skin beneath, the resounding, elongated moan of his name, the tortured, “ ** _Kylo_** ,” that Hux makes has Kylo cresting, and kissing him to quiet whatever embarrassing noises he makes in response.

When Kylo draws his hands away, Hux immediately clings to him, burying his face into Kylo’s shoulder, wrapping his legs and arms around Kylo tighter than before. Kylo instinctively helps to hold Hux up, and when he budges just a little to slide out, Hux pulls him in closer again, with trembling legs.

“What is it, Hux?” Kylo asks gently.

“Don’t go yet,” Hux utters back, “Stay like this with me.”

Hux leans back so their eyes can meet, and while there’s trace evidence of tears having been on Hux’s face, they’re not there anymore.

“I won’t leave yet,” Kylo assures him.

Hux kisses Kylo’s cheek, and says against the flushed skin there, “stay inside me until you can’t anymore. Wash with me a last time, and then be on your way to defend my life.”

“And return with Faethea,” Kylo adds.

He feels Hux’s lips curl into a smile, “and return with Faethea, of course.”

Kylo holds onto Hux longer, and with more strength than is necessarily required.

Hux makes no objections.

* * *

_She is with child._

Jardom turns away from the viewport where he’s just watched the pods take off. He doesn’t recognize the voice speaking to him, and he’s positive the door to Hux’s quarters haven’t been opened. He may be tired, but he is a reliable guard.

He glances around, feels the emptiness of the space, and asks, “…who’s there?”

_She doesn’t yet realize._

Something drops in Jardom’s stomach, and he is compelled to look at the ring in Nali’s unfurled hand.

It seems somehow shinier than before.

“…Nali?” he asks the ring directly, “Nali is… pregnant?”

 _Quite a happy accident, I can see_ , the voice replies, _She will be elated upon receiving this news._

Jardom walks over to Nali, checks that she is still unconscious, and he looks over to Haas as well, sees him still asleep, and eerily motionless. He crouches down, and stares at the ring.

“Nali is… are you… are you an ally of Lord Kylo Ren? How are you speaking to me? Are you telling me that Nali is carrying my child?”

_You will make for a good father._

Jardom goes to grab the ring, and finds his fingers burned. He seethes, and clutches his burning fingertips. He looks between his hands and the ring a few times before tentatively trying to touch it again. It is cool now, and even when he speaks aloud to it, he garners no response.

He takes a station in front of Nali, watching her face, and feeling his own heat up – he thinks he knows what has just happened, but he’s too fearful to jump to the conclusion that seems most natural.

He is unsure of most everything, but of this, he is certain now; there are not two people under his watch.

There are three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "MELANIE, JARDOM IS FORCE-SENSITIVE???"  
> Yes!! Congratulations to the 3 of you that figured it out a few chapters back! ;D  
> "MELANIE, DOES JARDOM NOT KNOW HE'S FORCE-SENSITIVE???"  
> No, he didn't before, but he seems to now!  
> "MELANIE, WHERE WERE THE FUCKIN SIGNS THO???"  
> When Jardom was introduced, he was part of an impressive line-up of the top of the graduating class from the Academy, but he has never regarded himself as particularly remarkable - why then, would Haas choose Jardom FIRST when he doesn't even LIKE Jardom and Jardom has admitted that there were people in the group better suited to work on Aurora than him?  
> "DO YOU MEAN TO IMPLY THAT JARDOM /INFLUENCED/ HAAS INTO CHOOSING HIM???"  
> Yes, I do. When Jardom talks about having always admired Nali but not wanting to cause her trouble, he says he laid low, trying to stay below her radar so he wouldn't put her off - perhaps he used the Force all those years to go undetected (like Kylo did at the gala hmmm?)  
> "WAIT, MELANIE, SO DOES THAT MEAN THAT THE REASON KYLO SO IMMEDIATELY LIKED JARDOM WAS BECAUSE HE UNKNOWINGLY SENSED THAT JARDOM WAS A KINDRED SPIRIT???"  
> Yes!  
> "WAIT, MELANIE, SO DOES THAT MEAN THAT JARDOM MAY HAVE BEEN USING THE FORCE ON HAAS WHEN THEY GOT IN THAT FIGHT THE NIGHT HUX GOT DRUNK AND KYLO HAD TO COME BREAK IT UP??"  
> Yes!  
> "WAIT, MELANIE, SO DOES THAT MEAN THAT JARDOM BEING INSIGHTFUL ABOUT WHAT HUX WANTED FROM KYLO WAS BECAUSE HE ACTUALLY /KNEW/ AND HE WASN'T JUST BEING INTUITIVE?"  
> Yes! That's also precisely why Jardom uses "digging for gold" as an analogy - he sensed that gold meant something between Kylo and Hux and influenced Kylo into acting like an adult and talking to his evil bf.  
> "WAIT, MELANIE, SO DOES THAT MEAN THAT WHEN JARDOM SENSED THAT HUX WAS READYING HIMSELF TO DIE IT WAS BECAUSE HE WAS ACCIDENTALLY READING HUX'S MIND???"  
> Yes! And if you review conversations with Jardom in past chapters, you'll see a lot of bits of Jardom picking up on things he shouldn't be able to pick up on. Jardom's been accidentally reading people's minds for a while ;]  
> "BACK THE FUN BUS THE FUCK UP FOR A SECOND HERE, MELANIE, NALI IS PREGNANT???"  
> Yes! She is!  
> "SINCE WHEN HAVE NALI AND JARDOM BEEN DOING THE DO???"  
> Not for very long, actually! If you read my fic 'A Little Tied Up,' it frames precisely when and how Jardom and Nali started doing the no-pants dance  
> "MELANIE, WHY WOULD AN EVIL RING TELL JARDOM THAT NALI IS PREGNANT????"  
> Why are you so sure the ring is evil? ;]  
> "MELANIE, KYLO USED THE WORD /LOVE/ EVEN IF IT WAS ONLY IN HIS HEAD!!!"  
> Yes, he did.  
> "MELANIE, DO YOU REALLY TURN 23 TOMORROW???"  
> Yes, unfortunately I do and I'm aggressively ignoring adulthood, so pls stop time  
> "MELANIE, DID HURRICANE MATTHEW FUCK UP YOUR WHOLE SEMESTER'S SCHEDULE??"  
> Yes, unfortunately it did and now I have a metric shit ton of work to make up, which is why this update has been so delayed.  
> "MELANIE, IS HAVING YOUR HUSBAND BACK FROM COMBAT DEPLOYMENT EVERYTHING YOU DREAMT IT'D BE???"  
> Yes! :3 Thank you to all of you that sent us happy wishes and congratulations! <3
> 
> For those of you that skipped the sex scene: Hux and Kylo slow bone and it's super tender, very intense and Kylo really gets lost in his lovey-dovey thoughts about Hux. He tells Hux that he's chosen the star Faethea to propose to him with upon his return from Tython. That he's planning to propose to Hux at all and that he's chosen a real star and has a real intention of getting that real star to propose to Hux with makes Hux orgasm so hard, it's almost comical. Hux's reaction is really intense, though and worth noting. Because their channel is closed off, we don't really see Hux's thought process there or what effect Kylo's words had on him inwardly, but you WILL get to see it eventually.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the update!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings for this chapter!

The jacket’s discarded, for the time being, on the cot with his gloves, sword, hat, socks, and shoes. After being thoroughly fucked by Ren, there seemed little point in rushing to get himself back in order. He has nowhere to be, quite literally.

Hux thinks to himself that the prior sentiment could actually summarize a lot of his relationship with Ren; being entirely fucked by the man, and then losing all sense of direction or propriety.

He’s not sure how long he’ll be stuck in this pod, anyway; he may as well be comfortable.

The endorphins Kylo has left him stewing in help him to release just a modicum of anxiety.

He can’t help but wear those rose-tinted glasses (stars knows he didn't put them there, himself); Ren makes him weak, but simultaneously courageous, and capable, and new. He’s unsure how Ren does it, but then again, Ren has always been a paradox in and of himself. He fills Hux with terror, by how much he calms Hux all just by existing – it’s all wrong, and still feels like the only right thing Hux has ever done, or been, or felt in his entire life.

Perhaps the universe as a whole, will just go up in smoke – perhaps Ren will draw his lightsaber, and slash through the fabric of space-time until he makes enough heat, and rage, to give birth to a supermassive black hole that will swallow them all whole. Perhaps Ren has doomed them all to something terrible, and painful, something lasting, and incomprehensibly torturous, and maybe that doom has been looming over the two of them from the moment they met, or the moment Ren first had a vision of Hux, or the moment they were both conceived on the same plane of reality.

Then again, perhaps they won’t die horribly, after all.

Perhaps, after all the bloodshed and violence, there will be a quiet end for them. Perhaps, just because they lived horribly, does not mean they have to die in the same fashion.

He feels Ren with him now more than he ever has in Ren’s past absences – Ren is the sweat on his brow, the aftertaste of musky skin on his tongue, he’s in Hux’s bones, flowing, and raging like a river through his veins – Ren is part of everything. _The_ everything. The infinite, unrelenting Everything of existing, and Hux thinks that if that Everything is what is meant by ‘the Force,’ then Ren really is one with the Force.

As far as Hux is concerned, Ren _is_ the Force.

Smiling down at his drawing pad, Hux shifts in his seat just enough to feel the delicious pain Ren’s fit of passion has left behind.

He adores the ache, feeling Ren, and what Ren reduces him to, even when he’s not present in all the visible ways, and the most physical ways; a reminder that it was all real – that he continues to be real, even when he’s not within Hux’s line of vision.

And what a vision Ren is.

“A ridiculous man,” Hux says to himself, all while shading around the pouty mouth in the portrait of Ren he’s made.

The pencil keeps moving, relaxed, tame, and practiced, even as his hand – as if it were sentient – knows it is only distracting him from imminent fear. A fool’s fear, but fear all the same.

After a cycle or so of drawing, and talking aloud, so as not to lose his mind, Hux decides that talking aloud is not nearly as fruitful in calming him when Millicent isn’t there to look at him as if she understands.

He sighs deeply, sits at that table, and keeps the pencil moving, crossing his legs at his naked ankles.

He feels strangely young.

A bit naked without his dagger, too. It’s been a long, long time since he’s been without that piece of himself, and while he gave it away with the utmost care, and forethought, it still feels strange. He decides he will acclimate – the passage of time makes normal what is, at some time, unwelcome, and unfamiliar. He always acclimates.

He pays special attention to the shine in Ren’s eyes as he draws – the eyes were always the most interesting bit to draw in any portrait. In animals, and men alike – they speak such volumes.

Ren, the incredible, impossible man looks at him with those eyes, like he _means_ something. Like his happiness matters – like Ren himself wants to be the source of that happiness, even though, in all likelihood, he will be the terrifying, violent end of Hux. Paradoxical that he is, he is every source of happiness Hux has ever known in this galaxy, and he will most likely be the demise of any happiness to come. Hux has always known this, but it seems more evident now than ever.

He wonders what Brendol, or his mother, may have thought of him if they could see him now. He wonders what Brendol might say to him, and he speculates for a while, but nothing seems right – he could never know. He never would, he never will, he never can, because Brendol is long gone and, in some ways, that’s for the best. For both of them.

He wonders what a younger version of himself might think of him now. He briefly imagines sitting across a table from sixteen-year-old Hux, and letting him know what’s to become of them. He thinks young Hux would be quite pleased – making it to General, getting _the Finalizer_ , finding friendship, loyalty, and safety - a cat, too.

Perhaps he did not become Emperor Hux, as he once dreamt, but he made a garden, and conceivably that would be enough to satiate young Hux.

Hux bites the inside of his bottom lip, and imagines explaining that garden to young Hux – the garden is dark, sparse, with only a very few remarkable flowers, but he’s not a weed. Not anymore. He’s something, and maybe that something isn’t bright, or golden, or beautiful, or something that matters much at all in the great big galaxy – but he wasn’t ripped up from the ground. He’s no weed, he’s a Something – whatever that means, and he’s deep in the soil, and he’s got roots, twined with enormous, life-giving plants like Ziare, and Kylo, even with the just-blooming buds of Naos, Nali, and Jardom.

His hand wanders off to the left, and he writes out ‘ _Faethea_ ,’ – he writes it out a few different times, in a few different ways, trying to conceive of it.

It’s a moment in a word – maybe the only moment that ever mattered at all. A moment that his sensitive hands were held, that his scarred, damaged body was worshipped, desperately sought after; a moment that Cyclone Kylo fixed his endlessly dangerous gaze on him, promised him everything there is to be had in the universe if he so wants it, a moment he was _adored_. Sincerely.

A moment he was seen, and heard.

A moment he was missed before he was gone, he was dizzy with the power of being powerless, and wanting more – needing the surrender, the relief of those cyclone winds whisking him away into bliss. Kylo – Kylo who is Everything, with those glistening, deep-space, dark eyes laser-focused on him, and the weight of his attention being intoxicating, heady, too heavy to bear, and still leaving Hux starving for more.

Then he writes out, ‘ _Kylo & Aurelien Hux_.’

He frowns.

Kylo Hux doesn’t sound right. It doesn’t roll off the tongue, and it doesn’t look pretty either.

He starts writing out ‘ _Kylo & Aurelien Solo_,’ when he remembers that Alderaan was a matriarchal society, and that odds are, Kylo – or Ben’s - former name belonged to the princess, and not his father. That if Kylo were to take that old name back, it would be the one of the General’s.

_'Kylo & Aurelien Organa.'_

He likes it.

He could never tell that to Ren, of course – he’d never hear the end of it.

Ren would spend the rest of their short lives trying to convince him to legally change his name, just to stroke his ego. Ren loves possessing things – he’s a possessive man, much like Hux in that regard, and he’d want his name on Hux, somewhere. He wants Hux in every way he can have him – destroy him, and repair him, in every way there is to be torn apart, and put back together.

Yes, Hux supposes he’ll keep that scribble a bit of a secret. No one needs to know he was writing their names together, like Kylo were some teenaged heartthrob, and Hux some daydreaming school girl. Hux would like to hang onto whatever dignity he has left.

He likes looking at it, though – more than he should, always more than he should – he likes thinking about it, he likes the way it sounds when he whispers it to himself, and he writes it over a few times, and then wondering if Kylo would be terribly offended to take that name back. Perhaps they’d only share a last name on paper, and continue to be Ren and Hux – Ren is rather difficult to predict in these emotionally charged types of situations.

He’d either be elated at the thought of plastering one of his identities onto Hux, or his eyes would ghost over, and he’d lose his temper as he so often does.

Just as Hux is considering the options of how that interaction might play out, the navigation board bursts to life with a loud whirring sound.

He stands from the table, but doesn’t move from it. He watches from afar as the board lights itself, buttons punch themselves, the pod is thrown into hyper speed, and he is helpless to stop it.

He shuts his eyes, takes a deep, and steadying breath – he reaches for Kylo, the only way he knows how.

 _Danger_ , he sends, hoping some Force-sensitive radar will pick it up, _I’m in danger. Danger came for me. Danger found me. I’m no longer inert. He knows._

A terrible shudder runs down Hux’s spine.

_Supreme Leader Snoke knows._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Melanie! Are we back on track with more regular updates??"  
> Yes! I had a lot of personal stuff going on that slowed down NAA's progress, but we're in the home stretch now. I can't imagine this going past twelve or fourteen more chapters, but we'll see!  
> "Melanie, you fell off the grid on this series for like two months and you bring us angst?? whYYY??"  
> because i'm ~terrible~
> 
> Hope everyone had happy holidays! Thanks for all your patience! Look out for more updates coming up more regularly as we near the end!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Jardom talks at length about watching a loved one die. His retelling is based on a very real experience of mine and I'm sure a shared experience with people who have been there at loved one's bedsides when they've passed. Please read carefully <3

Very suddenly, Haas gasps - so loudly, as well, that it shocks Jardom from his near-nod-off.

He’s a bit shamed, at first, that he was falling asleep – the General would be most disapproving.

He rubs at his eyes to refocus them, and stares at Haas’s body, but it’s quite still, and he’s certainly not awake. No other noise comes from Haas’s body as he watches. Jardom knows he heard it, though.

_Kylo Ren has twined their respective consciousness’s together. His with the alien girl’s as well. Your General appears to have been frightened._

Jardom doesn’t look at the ring he knows is speaking to him. 

He has no reason to ignore the wisdom, other than fear, but he has never been ashamed of being a human, capable of feeling fear. And he does. He fears. He fears for himself, for Lord Kylo Ren, for General Hux, for Nali, and for Naos Haas. He fears the ring, and he thinks that’s likely wise.

The voice may be maternal, concerned, even, but voices, like faces, can be masked, used to deceive, and Jardom is nothing if not vigilant.

He keeps his eyes trained on Haas, perhaps waiting for some other sign of near wakefulness. He knows the Captain is running about the ship, close to madness with keeping up appearances, and he won’t alert her of anything short of immediate peril. A gasp in one’s sleep is not enough, Jardom thinks. He senses danger, uncertainty, but nothing is clear to him.

Absently, he wishes that Lord Kylo Ren was present, and able to help him hone these skills he has always referred to as 'intuition.'

Jardom wonders how Lord Kylo Ren will react when he tells him of the ring speaking, and of his ability to hear it. He wonders if Lord Kylo Ren will be proud, or interested at all – if he will be willing to help Jardom tame himself.

“I was with my father when he died,” Jardom tells the room – he might be talking to the ring, but he isn’t willing to admit that, even to himself.

He stretches his legs out on the floor, turning his ankles back and forth to make them crack, and feeling an ache rush through from his hips, to his toes – he’s been stiff, and still, for too long. He cracks his neck for good measure, and sighs as his muscles wake up, and complain at his poor posture.

“He was very ill – he always had been,” Jardom expounds, “I never knew him in his years of health. I only saw the end. I was ten standard years old, when he passed. He was in his bed, my mother, my sister, and myself, beside him. I didn’t cry – I was the youngest, but he was always reinforcing this idea of ‘being the man of the house,’ once he was gone. I think that… even if I hadn’t felt pressure to appear unshakeable, for the sake of my mother, and sister, I would not have cried. I recall numbness. Acceptance. The universe is cruel in its apathy. It never meant to take my father from me – this is simply what is. But watching his health decline taught me very much. Particularly in those last few hours.”

Jardom glances at Nali from the corner of his eye, but he doesn't want the spirit of the ring mistaking his attention to her towards it, so he refocuses his attention back onto Haas.

“A person’s last breath is distinctly unique, and different than all the others – towards the end, when they’ve lost consciousness, it’s like you can feel it… a… a transition. Transformation. Not precisely an indication of a life after, but something very… _other_. It fills the room. Everyone sits closer together without meaning to, everything seems drawn in on itself. We watch the ship of our loved ones sail across the horizon – just because we cannot see them anymore does not mean they no longer are, though. They are simply across the horizon, out of sight, and when they meet that place where the sky and sea touch, as they pass out of view, they gasp.”

Jardom can still hear it now – how it sounded from his father’s chest, how it rattled, how skeletal, and weak, his father had become, and how pained he was to hear his father’s struggle for air. He can remember how badly he wanted it to be over with, and how guilty he felt for that. He didn’t want his father to die, really – he only wanted the suffering to end. Both those wishes were one in the same, though, and he knew, even young like that, what he truly wanted, was for his mother to sleep.

He wanted his father’s pain to cease, for his sister’s crying to dry, for their family to _rest_ , and the agony, the long bedside vigils, and endless stream of caf, to just _stop_. He supposes it is selfish, no matter how he looks at it. He is a selfish young man. He always has been – wanting after things he has no place wanting after.

He remembers first seeing Nali, thinking that love at first sight was a myth, but – perhaps not. He wanted her, even as he learned she had already chosen her most precious one. He wanted her, and he wanted his desires to be kept secret, for both their sakes. It was selfish to keep his distance, admire her from afar, with no right to pursue her, and it was selfish, still, to do it all, anyway - to want after her, anyway.

He could never win.

He could not have her.

She could not want him.

He had no chance.

He cannot help his selfishness. He has only ever hoped that it would not be his downfall. That if he was patient, treated others as he wanted to be treated, if he kept his hearing sharp, if he kept a weather eye out, kept his ego in check, and his head down, that his treasure would come.

That an opportunity would present itself, somehow.

And, it had.

Not that he knew, or even dared to hope, that the opportunity with Nail would arrive. An opportunity for something as beautiful and rewarding as having her - that is what he had hoped for. He never could have known she would ever turn her eyes on him, and see him worth keeping. Worth loving. 

He wishes that Nali could hear him now. She is so often comforting, and grounding.

It is nice, too, to be reminded that she is real, and what they have now, is still real.

There are sleep cycles he wakes up, or can't sleep at all, simply turns over, and tosses about, wondering how it is that he is alive, awake, and Nali has chosen him.

He is too selfish to make her question her decision to keep him, though, no matter how unworthy he feels.

“Those last breaths… they breathe in, and you think they’re dead – it’s thirty seconds in humans. Thirty seconds, they breathe in, and then thirty seconds pass before they breathe out. It’s a bit like watching the lights go out as a building loses power – the functions are scattered, and they don’t all fail, and crash at once. They spark, and flicker – they gasp. I remember what that last breath was like. How his weak pulse finally, sluggishly came to a stop. How his eyes changed in that almost imperceptible way death changes them. A gasp, thirty seconds, a gasp, thirty seconds, a gasp, and then… nothing. I feel foolish sometimes, for believing he is still with me. That he would be proud of me, or that he somehow is – that he is part of everything around me.”

_You are not wrong to believe this._

Jardom holds his head in his hands, rubbing the heart of his palms into his forehead.

“Don’t say that.”

_He is with you. Those departed – they never really leave you. I am talking to you, aren’t I?_

“That’s different. I don't understand it myself, but you're different. This is just... it's different.”

No voice comes for a few beats, and just when Jardom thinks that the ring has severed conversation, it speaks to him again.

_The infant forming in this alien girl – the brain is developing. Procreation is different among her species. I think you will have eighteen standard months before your child is born. There is a brain stem, though, and the beginnings of a brain._

Jardom shut his eyes tightly, ears, and cheeks flushing. He hopes so profoundly that Nali will be happy, that she will keep their child – that she will keep _him_.

_You want to know that your father would be proud of you. This is something you want to share with him. Your child._

“Of course,” Jardom responds hoarsely, “Of course it is. Wouldn’t every child? Wouldn’t every child want to share this with their parents? Of course, I want him to see. The child – they will be so beautiful. It’s hard to imagine not sharing them with everyone I know. Of course. Of course, I want to share it with him.”

_The hippocampus is large – larger than a human’s._

“What does that mean?”

_It means that your child’s brain will be built for the storage of more memory than yours, or perhaps even this mother's brain is._

“A brain sculpted for memories,” Jardom smiles down at his lap, “That’s nice. That’s a nice thought. A long, glad life, with infinitely happy memories. I want to give that baby memories – lots of them. I want to be in almost all of their memories, I think. Important ones - good ones. I look forward to building memories with them.”

_The way you wish your father was in yours?_

“Yes,” Jardom answers sadly.

_Come to your mate. The life inside her cannot understand you, but speak, anyway. What we say often has little meaning, anyway. How we say it, and what it all means, beneath, and between the words – the intangible things. Those are the things that matter._

Unsure why he is taking direction at all, Jardom crawls over to Nali, and places his head in her lap, closest to where his child is apparently forming. He wishes the formation were far enough along that he could feel a kick, or hear something, but he knows it’s much too soon.

_Say to your child what you wish your father had said to you._

Jardom hesitates. This is all strangely intimate, and almost painful. He isn’t sure why. He barely knew his father. He misses him, though, all the same.

_Be more than a gasp – a gasp is all your father left you. Give this new life something more. Give them, now, what you have needed from your own father. It will help you find peace._

With a shaky inhale, Jardom shuts his eyes, and says to Nali’s belly, “I… I love you. Very much. We’ve not known each other long – you don’t… you don’t know me at all, really. We all lose things, and people most beloved – don’t fight that. It’s okay. There are low, and high tides. Some of the universe gives, and some of it takes, but it never means you personal harm. And… if I am ever… away from you… if ever I cross some horizon, and you cannot see me anymore…”

_Go on._

“… I will be all around you,” Jardom promises, “When you speak to me, I will hear you, no matter how far, and when you think something is quite the happy accident, or coincidence, know that it is me – that I will make every happiness for you that I can, and nothing is a coincidence, nothing is an accident. _You_ are not an accident. You are rather miraculous, and I will make life beautiful for you, the way you deserve it to be. Even if I am not before you – if I leave you sooner than you’d hoped, know that I am in the sand, the waters, the sky, the plants, the ground, the stars, and even in the space that seems dark, and scary, and lonesome – I am there too. I am all around you. I will protect you. Even if someday, I am out of sight. Even then. I will surround you, and you will feel all of my love for you, everyday. Everyday that you live. You will feel me, because I’ll never really be gone. I’ve loved you before I’ve known you, and I think that when I meet you, I will love nothing more in the entire universe.”

Heat pushes at Jardom’s eyes, and his head throbs – he really needs sleep, but he knows there is no time to rest. Not now. There is enough time for this, though – and, this is more important. Much more important.

“You know, your mother’s name, Nali – on my home planet, it mean’s ‘craftsman graced with God’s bounty.’ I think that sets things out for you quite nicely, doesn’t it?” Jardom smiles, imagining holding that weight, that child that will be in part his, and in part, Nali’s, and he thinks he is too anxious to wait so long to meet them – that to make him wait eighteen standard months is just cruel, “I helped supply, certainly, but it is your mother that is crafting you, and with the grace of the Heavens too – of Angels. You will be one, I think. A ground-walking Angel, just like your mother. I will be braver for you. For just existing, I will be braver, and I will protect you, and love you. And perhaps Nali would not like for me to say this, but I will protect her, too. She doesn’t need me to, but I will. I know you will fill me with pride, just as Nali does. How will I contain myself, small one, when I am faced with you? However will I keep from telling every living soul that you are all that is good about existing, bundled up in a blanket, and that I have no intention of sharing you with any of them?”

Jardom laughs at his own selfishness – he never really thought of being a father, but, now…

He can think of no greater honor than to father Nali’s child.

His heart thrums away, eager to dote on Nali, eager to see her round belly, and to be at her beck and call, to get her whatever bizarre foods her appetite might demand, and to soothe her swollen feet when they ache. He is so eager, his hands shake.

“Will the baby ever know I said any of that?”

_Most probably not._

Jardom rolls his glassy eyes, but his smile is still placid, and loving. He can’t help it, really – he struggles to be anything other than blissfully happy when he is so close to Nali.

_But, they will feel you in the sand, the waters, the sky, the plants, the ground, and all of space – they will feel you. Keep your promises, and they will always feel you. They feel you even now._

“Really?”

_Really._

Smiling gladly, Jardom settles himself more comfortably against Nali’s lap. He is still unsure of what just happened with Haas, but a gasp is just a gasp, sometimes. He returns to happier thoughts – he thinks it is all that will keep him afloat during the next few cycles left, before this ugly business is dealt with. Before Nali can wake, and he can hold her closely, and they can form a future together.

Jardom is good with his hands – always has been. He’s a good builder, a good engineer, and though it’s a task yet unknown to him, he is rather thrilled to start building the rest of his life with Nali Vitaan.

“Will she take my name, do you think?”

_Certainly not. She will insist you take hers._

Jardom laughs heartily at the voice from the ring, grinning up at Nali’s sleeping face, “that’s quite alright. I think I’ll rather like being Jardom Vitaan.”

He does not drift to sleep, but he daydreams about that for a long, long while. It keeps his mounting anxiety at bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Melanie, wheRE IS KYLO???"  
> In the next chapter!  
> "Melanie, whaT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO HUX???"  
> You'll see!  
> "Melanie, the spirit in the ring is of a dead mother and I thought it was evil but maybe she's just trying to help???"  
> Possibly!  
> "Melanie, does every character have a tragic past???"  
> Most of them! Yup!  
> "Melanie, what the ring lady said about their consciousness being tied together, wtf does that mean???"  
> It means Haas's consciousness is getting screwed up with Hux's - he may feel like he's dreaming, but whatever it is he saw in his 'dream,' made him gasp. The ring is informing Jardom that Nali's consciousness is screwed up with Kylo's too - they are both beacons receiving information from Hux and Kylo, respectively.  
> "Melanie, is the enD NIGH???"  
> YES


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings for this chapter!  
> It's been so long since I updated and I'm so sorry! All the last chapters end on terrible cliff-hangers, though, so I thought it'd be better that I wait til I finished NAA completely and then post the ending all at once so no one had to suffer through waiting for more updates.

Even as he was fast approaching, Kylo knew that with Force users as strong as Rey, and Luke, the element of surprise would not be his. It really didn’t matter – he knew he would face off with Rey as soon as he touched land, no matter what disadvantages or advantages he’d have.

Besides, Kylo wholly believed his arsenal more lethal than Rey’s – his motivation ran deeper than justice, or righteousness, or even vengeance. Ardor, devotion of the highest degree is, beyond question and reason, the most savage motivator.

His pod had landed violently, leaving deep scorch marks in the soil where he came to a skidding halt, and she was there waiting for him, saber ignited, a feral, wild type of ferocity to her that he recognized from the woods on Starkiller. Possibly Darker – Dark in a way that spoke to slipping, to starting too late in the ways of the Force – Dark in a way that Kylo recognized as a mirror image of himself.

Their battle could have been epic; he set out very determinedly to kill her, ready to stop at nothing, but both of their sabers were stripped from them by Luke only minutes into wordless lashing.

Winds are whipping up now, the weather is turning with the night on Tython, and Kylo cannot face Luke. He glares dangerously at Rey instead, hating her, despising her, _loathing_ her from the very marrow in his bones, at the thought that she might dare to take Hux from him.

Luke speaks, but Kylo blocks him out, unwilling to risk recognizing that familiar rasp.

He hasn’t seen Luke since the night of the massacre, and the ghost of Ben that haunts the mausoleum of Kylo’s soul cautiously rises at just the memory of Luke. The thought of looking Luke’s way, and meeting his forlorn eyes is too much – it’s too heavy, too burdensome, and he risks losing too much if he gets caught up in emotional entanglements that belong to a dead boy he never really had the chance to be.

“ _How_ could you suggest that?” Rey barks disbelievingly at Luke.

This exclamation brings Kylo’s attention to their exchange with enough time to hear Luke say to her, calmly, “because, he is my nephew, Rey, and my sister wants him home. Alive.”

“After _all_ that he has done –"

“If my _father_ could reach some level of redemption, _he_ can too. It is not for you to decide – not for me, either. All that matters is that Leia wants him back.”

“That’s not – it can’t – I – you’re not – it’s not your responsibility, though!” Rey frantically argues, pity, and frustration lacing her voice.

“Ben was.”

Kylo’s stomach lurches, and his head spins like dust inside is being kicked up, like the name ‘Ben,’ out of Luke Skywalker’s mouth is a breath blowing cobwebs away off an old book of Kylo’s past, like that name from Luke Skywalker’s mouth is enough to summon him back to the surface of Kylo’s skin.

“ _Ben_ was my responsibility, and I failed him.”

“No – _no_ ,” Rey insists, torn between sadness, and anger on her behalf, Luke’s behalf, and Leia’s – her energies speak of no sympathy, or empathy for Kylo, though, as she adds, “What he is doing – what he’s _done_ – that wasn’t your _fault_! How could you have known what he’d become? How could you have –"

“What he becomes is out of my control, and always was,” Luke explains placidly, “It was Ben, a child, my nephew – young, impressionable, and lonely – that I failed. That boy was preyed upon, under my watch. Snoke made himself comfortable in the mind of _my_ nephew, right under my nose – under _my_ watch, Rey. When children are introduced to evil so young, Rey, they must emulate it to survive it. I was meant to keep that evil from touching Ben, and I failed. I failed Han, I failed Leia, I failed Ben. I failed him, Rey. I failed him in every way. If I had not failed him, we would not be here now, where we all are.”

Sometimes, Kylo thinks, there is no way to know one has to hear something justified, verified by some source, until it’s actually said. Kylo has never sought apologies – he was never interested in ‘making up.’ He never tried to imagine what it would sound like – someone taking responsibility in some way that made any sense, or did not beg narcissistically for pity, clemency, or for some apology in return.

Luke’s admission comes so easily, though – as if his impossibly dense guilt, and self-loathing, is as simple, and natural as breathing. As if he has always been this man – half-alive, surrendered, eroding to dust with phantom children weighing on his back, and bleeding behind his eyes.

There is no “I’m sorry,” from Luke – it would do little to mend things, just as an apology from Kylo for his past actions (and even current ones) would do little to repair the damage done by them. Still, Luke’s confession, heavy as it is, lightens something from Kylo’s back, and against his better judgment, he looks up into Luke’s eyes.

Luke is staring right at him; he has aged, his loneliness etched in the wrinkles around his eyes, and he looks so much a part of the soil, and nature of Tython, that he may as well already be lying in a grave. He looks at Kylo, and Ben Solo rises from his resting place, gripping some red crystal, wanting to tell his uncle about the red-haired man that tried to kill him, the red-haired man he has been destined to adore – the same man he found while scrambling through the Darkness. A man he may lose in the Darkness yet again.

For the first time, Kylo wonders if – had he told Luke about his vision that day – would Luke have known? Would Luke have told him, ‘this must be your soul mate,’ ‘this is clearly the one you are meant to be with,’ ‘a vision as powerful as that can only mean that chaotic infatuation, and genuine care like you’ve never known, is waiting for you, out there in the universe.’ Would Luke have known that Kylo would become someone capable of being cared for by another?

Would Luke have seen the garden of Angels, would he have seen how Kylo’s arms would wrap around Hux’s waist, how tears would fall from his eyes, for the overwhelming sense of relief Hux’s sole existence had given him that moment? And, perhaps more importantly, if Luke had been able to foresee all that, would Luke have told him, even if he knew?

Ben has risen from his unkempt grave, he has climbed on hands and knees, up Kylo’s throat, and now he’s banging at the back of Kylo’s teeth, desperate to speak, desperate to still _be_.

“Interesting. I thought he would have died with your father,” Luke comments.

He doesn’t mean it unkindly – he is vaguely intrigued, if anything. He seems dispassionate, though. Removed. He doesn’t expect to reach Kylo in any meaningful way.

For some reason – perhaps just to be contrary as he has always been by nature, Kylo wants to prove him wrong. He swallows thickly, his hands flexing nervously.

“He haunts me,” Kylo admits.

Luke’s eyes widen, and he smiles despite an effort not to, “my. Your voice has grown so deep – you’ve grown into a man since I saw you last. It’s a shock to the system.”

Rey’s eyes keep darting between the two of them, uncertain she belongs there. At the same time that Kylo thinks she most certainly does not belong there, in the midst of this highly personal moment, he reminds himself that she’s the very reason he’s there at all.

He opens his mouth to explain himself, but Luke speaks over his first intake of breath.

“Killing Rey won’t stop him haunting.”

Misunderstood, as he so often has been (particularly by Luke), Kylo’s brow furrows, and he frowns deeply.

“That’s not why I have to kill her.”

Tentatively stepping toward him, Luke notes, “interesting choice of words. 'Have to.' You have to? Why do you _have to_ kill her? What’s happened?”

Looking away from Luke’s eyes would be wise at this point, as they’ve been known to pry unwilling truths to the surface of many men, but Kylo can’t move his gaze anywhere else. Luke might be influencing him through the Force to keep their stare – he can’t quite tell. Luke is strong with the Force, and always has been. Kylo has never been able to tell if they are matched, if he is far above Luke, or far below him. He supposes that's part of what Luke wanted his impression on other Force users to be. He maintains control, by making everyone question themselves - perhaps, he doesn't even mean to make them question these things, and perhaps he has no desire for control. He has it, though.

Kylo has always hated this.

“You’ve had a vision,” Luke can tell, his head tilts, and his eyes sharpen as he examines Kylo’s expression for minute changes, “This is about your General, isn’t it?”

The way Luke says ‘your,’ implies all that needs implying, and is accurate in its tone.

Rey’s mouth turns to a sneer of disgust, her eyes wide with shock.

She looks straight at Kylo, and proclaims with a cocktail of disbelief, distaste, and mortification, “you can’t be serious…”

To avoid violent conflict, Kylo opts to ignore her.

His affection for Hux is serious enough to kill her, and it would serve her well to respect his adoration for Hux, to know his admiration's thirsting fangs are eager to sink into her, rip away the flesh, deliver her to the ether as he delivers Hux to safety, in tandem.

He ignores her, because he decides she doesn’t deserve the forewarning.

“I swore to protect him,” Kylo confesses to Luke.

“I think what is more important here is that you love him.”

Those words, out loud, disarm Kylo, and Rey mutters something partially bitter, and partially amazed - something almost certainly horribly annoying, that Kylo doesn't catch. Something that gets caught in the rush of a breeze, and something that Kylo doesn’t care about hearing, anyway. She sees something only barely human when she looks at Kylo. “Love,” does not fit into the schema of Kylo she has built in her head.

If he were her teacher, he would tell her that conceiving of people in only one or two dimensional forms is dangerous, and short-sighted, that she will underestimate enemies by doing that, and thinking in such a way, but she, and her education, are hardly his concern. Why should he explain that he is capable of love? What does he owe her? She survived him - that should be enough. He owes her nothing.

The word “love,” has been used to associate Kylo with Hux by an outsider, though, and that is significant - it has been used by someone who does not live behind the walls of his skull, screaming it at the top of his lungs.

And _that_  validation is surreal.

“I…”

Once Luke is actually standing in front of Kylo, Kylo isn’t entirely sure how the man got there. He’s very close, reading Kylo’s eyes, and probably stealthily moving over his frontal lobe, gathering data. Luke has always been good at that – not as good as Leia, but certainly a master.

“You’re tired,” Luke examines, a rush of empathy coming from him, “Very tired. You’re tired of all of this, aren't you? You aren’t inclined to fight - to fight anyone, not just me, or Rey, here. You don't want to fight. You only want to return to him.”

All Kylo can do is nod in affirmation, his jaw slack.

He _is_ tired. He’s _exhausted_. All he truly wants _is_ to be with Hux, and for Hux to be content, and safe. He’ll only stop moving once he knows Hux will be safe. Until then, he can’t rest. So, exhausted he may be, but continue he must.

“Is this why you feel your old self? Has your General asked it of you – for you to allow Ben life again?”

“How could you possibly know that?” Kylo asks in a hushed breath.

It’s a bit of a silly question to ask – as long as Kylo has known Luke, Luke’s ability to read people has been one part intuition, one part strong Force-sensitivity, and one part entirely, inexplicably supernatural. Everyone has always been (and still is, it seems) an open book to Luke – that was the trouble with him. It’s why Ben went to such great lengths to hide himself.

“Because, I feel him – I feel Ben,” Luke expounds, “His presence is weak, but he could never rise against you from death for anything less than what he was denied in life; understanding. What none of us could provide him with – this General – he has given this to you, this understanding, empathy you have sought, and, probably, entirely without meaning to. Men like him don’t usually have hearts to share or trade, but here you stand, a beacon of Light, unconditional love, and a twisted sense of virtue, so I can only imagine Ben is present, because someone very special asked for him.”

Staring openly into Luke’s all-seeing eyes, Kylo remains silent as Luke finishes, “you have found this General, you have come to love him, you have proclaimed your vow to protect him, which has brought you to Tython, likely because of a vision having to do with Rey, or myself, and now there is Light emanating from you. Simple conclusions to make, in the end; Ben has been understood by someone, and thus found the power against you to rise, Light, and love, is pouring from you, so you must be here for him - for the General.”

Something changes in Kylo’s eyes – he can’t see it, of course, but he can feel it. He can feel Ben buzzing under his skin, itching for an olive branch – still in want of familial approval. It would be pitiful – it _should_ be, even, but Kylo feels nothing but bizarre, unguarded wrong-footedness.

“I couldn’t help Ben,” Luke tells him softly – so softly, so full of regret, “but I can help you. What danger is your General in?”

“You’re offering aid?” Kylo asks disbelievingly.

Tilting his head with a sad expression, Luke replies, “of course, I am. I always was. I always will.”

With very little fight left in him, Kylo is unwilling to follow Luke to the, reportedly, barely furnished home he now has – it feels too much like being cornered, and he has been drained too much to face off with Luke.

Rey watches their interaction closely, palpably distrusting, and Kylo is as cooperative as he can bear to be, but immensely bothered by her.

He doesn’t over-share, in regard to Hux – Rey’s irritation can grate on him when he speaks of Hux, and, at one point, he snaps at her when he feels that yellow-tinted aura push against him like sandpaper in his ear. Luke keeps them from getting at each other’s throats, but the air is thick, and tense.

With only limited details, Luke is able to decipher the type of vision Kylo received while staying with Hux, before going to the citadel, and conversation comes to a screeching halt as Kylo shares the same ill-conceived advise the Force ghost Anakin offered, once he was actually at the citadel.

When Kylo yells at Luke about that particular visitation, demanding to know what Luke knows of this hateful _Anakin_ , he is sat down by a Force push, and held there with invisible restraints, as Luke tells him that the man he saw was the person Kylo only knows as Darth Vader.

“That doesn’t make sense," Kylo denies, "He said his name was Anakin.”

“Anakin _Skywalker_ ,” Luke tells him solemnly, “My father. He goes by his birth name, because he died a good man, leaving the Dark side in his final moments. His final wish was to look upon me – I’m the one that removed that helmet you keep. My father brought balance to the Force – he spent half his life in the Light, and half his life in the Dark, but he died as all men do. The love in his heart could not be blackened beyond recognition – he was born Anakin Skywalker, he lived half his life as Darth Vader, but he died Anakin Skywalker.”

Reeling, Kylo thrashes against the Force bonds, wanting to destroy the surrounding nature, hating everyone he’s ever known for not telling him the truth, and when he begs that question, Luke tells him, “there was never a right time. I wanted to tell you from the start, but it wasn’t my place – Leia wasn’t ready for you to know. I don’t know why she felt so strongly about it, but I didn’t argue with her. I see now that I should have told you, despite her displeasure.”

Kylo nearly escapes his bonds, but Rey helps to restrain him, and between Rey and Luke, they meet a stalemate of power. He surrenders to it, lying back on the grass, with the wind whipping, and night sky dark above.

“Luke,” Kylo beckons without much inflection.

“Yes?”

“Han died with regret.”

There is a pregnant pause.

“Yes. I know. I felt it.”

“It was me,” Kylo asks without asking, “The regret. He was staring at me – even when he fell. He had so much to regret in life, so many selfish endeavors to own up to at the end, but he couldn’t – he wouldn’t – regret those things. He only regretted me. He only regretted his son.”

“Ben…” Luke addresses so sadly, sitting beside Kylo, releasing the bonds, but Kylo doesn’t sit up, and certainly doesn't try to escape, “… Ben, your birth was not Han’s regret.”

Turning his head to look up at Luke, Kylo barely exists. Ben Solo is there, in his eyes, beneath his skin, standing on tip-toes to try and fill up the adult body Kylo has made into a battering ram of muscle. Luke knows this – Rey even seems to sense that there is a fourth, unfamiliar presence among them.

It’s as though Ben is truly alive, still small enough that he has to tilt his head back to look his uncle in the eyes, but this Uncle Luke is very different from the one Ben Solo knew. He is very old, weathered, and terribly sad. Ben feels responsible for this transformation – Luke was once youthful, glad, and beaming. He seems more like a dying flame now.

“He would be turning in his grave if he knew you thought that of him,” Luke says with a strange smile, “Ben, Han’s only regret was being unable to save you. He wanted so much more for you – he wanted you to have endless happiness, he wanted you to be surrounded with love, acceptance, to own and direct your destiny. His only regret was that he didn’t know how to save you. It is a regret I carry, it is a regret that he carried, and a regret your mother carries too. We failed you so profoundly… we are more than sorry, Ben. But your _life_ was not a regret Han ever had – he loved you. He loved you with a tenderness I did not know he was capable of until you were born. He didn’t regret you, Ben. He loved you.”

The words take some time to settle in – is Kylo meant to be perpetually wrong? Is anything he thinks, or anything he feels, real? Would that make a difference, even if he knew the answer to that with any degree of certainty?

All he knows in that moment is that Ben trusts Luke, Luke knew Han well, and Ben greedily, tearfully, accepts Luke’s explanation.

And then, as if on the wind, Ben is gone.

Ben Solo’s grave is a gaping hole in Kylo’s chest, but very much empty. There is no ghost, there is no more haunting, no more lingering – Ben is gone. Kylo killed him a long time ago, he should have been gone for so long, but Ben refused to leave – until now. Until this moment that he was sure, positive, even for a moment, that his father really did love him. Maybe that was all Ben ever needed to settle down, and find peace. Just a moment of certainty.

Everything seems very suddenly fragile – like reality itself might crumble away if Kylo moves the wrong way.

“I want to go away with him.”

“With General Hux?” Luke clarifies.

“Yes,” Kylo answers, blinking his glassy eyes up at the stars, “I want to leave the Order, and Master Snoke – I only want to be with him. If I’m to understand you, it’s what Han would have wanted for me, as well.”

“Well,” Luke says, very nearly happily, “then I believe it’s my obligation to see that it happens for you – Han never did care much for consequences. How can I help you?”

Kylo cannot escape the First Order while Master Snoke is alive, that much he knows, and he tells Luke so.

He fears he cannot defeat Master Snoke alone – not while he is spreading his powers across light years as he is. He cannot ask the Knights of Ren for help, because they are much more apt to try and usurp his position, and warn Master Snoke in advance, have Kylo killed, or kill Kylo themselves, for the perceived betrayal. Regrettably, he needs outside aid.

While Luke is patient, and willing to speak on the matter, Rey makes it very clear that she is only willing to help kill Master Snoke, but is otherwise uninterested in allowing either Kylo, or Hux, to escape justice. She doesn’t say so with disgust, or superiority – she says it with a sternness that is reminiscent of Leia, and Kylo respects it.

Kylo is understanding of her desire for what she perceives as justice, and considers killing Rey once they defeat Master Snoke, but buries the thought before either Rey or Luke can sense it. He isn’t sure he could kill another pupil of Luke’s without repercussion. He imagines handing off his saber to Hux, to do the job – Hux would deal with it elegantly, no doubt, and as good as Rey seems with her saber, she would be no match for Hux. He’s too agile.

By the time the Tython night is in its darkest hour, Kylo accepts the offered aid of Luke, and Rey; Rey is meant to go with him to face Master Snoke while Luke secures a safe relocation for Kylo and Hux. Kylo doesn’t trust for a moment that Rey won’t attack Hux – this all works to much into the hand of his prophetic visions, but he reasons that he went to the gala knowing Hux’s would-be-murderer was there, and he vanquished that one.

If the man were there, Hux might tell him to keep his friends closer, and enemies closer, and some such nonsense – and he thinks that, perhaps, in this situation, it might work to his advantage. Use Rey to snuff out Master Snoke, kill her before she can harm Hux as he has foreseen, and escape with Hux where no one, not even Luke, can find them. They can take it from there. Once they’re free, they’ll figure out what they want, and how to get it – he just needs Hux to be safe. He just needs to find some way to peace.

Once all is settled, Kylo goes into his ship to get his comm. He dials in, and communicates to Hux on his personal channel that he has secured Rey’s loyalties, and they will be free of Master Snoke soon.

Static answers, and anxiety spreads over Kylo’s chest like a rash. His stomach turns over itself, and the frequency on the comm changes; where he is sure he will hear Hux’s voice, he only hears Master Snoke’s physical voice from Hux’s comm.

“Kylo Ren.”

There's a moment of heavy stress where Kylo thinks to himself that he should have known. How did he not feel Hux's distress? Why is the Force abandoning him now?

“What have you done with him?” Kylo seethes, as Rey and Luke stare on.

“You may feel you have fallen far from my graces, but fear not, Kylo Ren. If you understand the last of your training, you will have every ability to secure the General without incident. I have your beloved General here with me.”

“Alive?” Kylo asks, fear threading through his voice.

“Should I check?” Master Snoke mocks – there is very suddenly an agonized scream – a scream Kylo recognizes.

“Leave him alone!" Kylo orders, "What have you done to him!?”

Master Snoke explains that he has Hux, and, while the man might be a little worse for wear, he’s very much alive. Master Snoke gives Kylo coordinates to come retrieve Hux, and then warns darkly, “if I were you, Kylo Ren, I would waste no time in getting to Malachor.”

The comm turns off, and Kylo looks wide-eyed to Luke.

Luke is visibly troubled, but doesn’t seem to know what to say.

“Did you know?” Kylo has to ask.

“Of course not,” Luke tells him, “I would have told you immediately, if I had known.”

“What do I do?”

Everything is wrong – Hux might be hurt, Hux might be at Death’s door, and Kylo isn’t there with him. Was this Master Snoke’s plan all along? Has he truly been a pawn all this time? And why Malachor? How did Luke not sense this? Everything is wrong.

“Go to Malachor,” Luke advises grimly, “Get him. If you leave him there, his fate is sealed. If you go, there is at least hope.”

Hope.

If it’s all Kylo can have now, he’ll take it.


	11. Chapter 11

Troubled hours carry on, and the room fills with an electric energy – everything is steaming, seems blurry, and electrified.

Jardom wants to blame it on his sleep deprivation, but he fears something much more sinister is at hand.

He doesn’t know what to make of the energy shift, but all he can know for sure is that Haas and Nali – or rather, General Hux and Lord Kylo Ren, are unsafe.

Jardom watches on, useless, as Haas cries out in his sleep, writhing as if being electrocuted, or burned, from the inside. The strain of his slim muscles, and the deep furrow of his brow, pain Jardom deeply – he has never much liked Naos, but he has always held a certain level of respect for him.

Naps was such a dedicated student, an over-achiever, and he seemed born for his place on _Aurora_. No matter what his problem with Nali is, or was – Jardom was raised to acknowledge the strengths of those he dislikes despite, his distaste for them. His father used to say that taking issue with how someone conducts themselves does not negate their power, or intellect. That was always the case with Naos.

Absently, Jardom wishes he’d given Naos a bit more of a chance to speak for himself. Perhaps, if he was once friends with Nali, there is something beneath his thorny surface that makes him worthy of friendship, and care.

He turns to face Nali at that thought, and there, Nali’s shut eyes let slip a single tear, and Jardom has no idea what to make of it. She is telepathically bonded to Lord Kylo Ren, who makes no secret about being a wildly emotional person, but the calm of the tear is what is most striking.

Something seems very wrong.

When he asks the ring for help, guidance – anything – no voice responds.

So he waits, feeling limbless.

 

* * *

 

When Kylo arrives with the scavenger girl, Hux is too exhausted on too many levels to feel more than a little relief at the sight of Kylo. He has been hidden away in the ruins of this old Sith temple for too long, and Supreme Leader Snoke has told him far too much. He fears for Kylo, and that, perhaps more than anything else, is what touches at his frayed nerves.

When Hux tries to sit up, but seethes at the rip of pain that emanates from one of his broken ribs, Kylo rushes across the obsidian floors to his side.

Absurdly, Hux is reminded of the gala. He remembers how petrified he was, hiding behind that bar, waiting for Kylo to give him some evidence that he’d not been impaled with blaster fire. If the lighting were nicer, if their clothes were richer, and if Hux’s soul was just a little lighter, it may have been just like that.

That night, he wanted so badly to be swept up in Kylo’s arms, to feel safe, to feel like Kylo would protect him from all and anything – now, though, all he really wants is for Kylo to get out. To get somewhere safe.

He would like to die knowing Kylo is out there, somewhere – he’s fine dying, he’s fine sitting with his terror, his sadness, and impatience, but if he must vanish, if he must slip into oblivion, he’d like for Kylo to go on.

Kylo is his irreplaceable.

He knows it.

He couldn’t bear to think of Kylo being nowhere – of Kylo becoming nonexistent. He just wants to know Kylo is _somewhere_ , still part of the great, endless, nameless, Something/Nothing the universe is. Still nightmarish, and terrible, but wonderful, and calming, the way only he can be.

That Kylo has come for him feels like the doom that's about to unravel is his fault. More blood on Hux’s hands – blood he really, really didn’t want on his hands. Blood he’d like to keep in Kylo’s frayed heart, keep in his scarred, and beautiful body, so that he can be out there – out there, _somewhere_. Just anything, but nothingness - oblivion is for the things that couldn't be more than void, more than apathy, and resentment - oblivion, nothingness - Nowhereness - that's for _him_. Not for Kylo. 

“Don’t move,” Kylo instructs him gently, “I’m here – I’m sorry – I’m here. I should not have left you, Hux. I'm so sorry, but I'm here now. I'm sorry. I'm here.”

“Clearly,” Hux replies drily – apparently, Kylo is not in a humorous mood.

“What has he done to you?”

There is an inhuman rage in Kylo’s eyes, an animal fear around his mouth, and an angry flush in his cheekbones, but darkness very literally seems to take over all his features. His veins seem darker, skin more pallid, eyes blacker, somehow – his hair is wild. It’s always wild, though.

_Some things never change._

He tucks a lock of that hair back behind Kylo’s ear, and some of that Darkness moves away, like the pull of a tide. Kylo’s eyes soften at his touch, and Hux smiles wearily at him, “nothing I couldn’t survive. I’m glad to see you, though I wish the circumstances were different.”

The scavenger girl makes no efforts to hide her confusion at their open displays of affection – she seems partway disgusted, and partway fascinated. It’s _infuriating_.

“Isn’t it?” Kylo asks nonchalantly.

Hux smirks – he very nearly forgot his telepathic bond with Kylo while he was distracted with his impending death. Now that he feels for it, the channel is open, and healthy – no worse for having been parted from each other for a time. He moves his eyes from the scavenger onto Kylo, and Kylo smiles at him, “she has been intolerable, all the way to you.”

“I’m sure she thinks you’re a patron saint of patience for not having attempted to kill her. Again.”

Troubles are so easily forgotten in the face of Kylo – he might not be in some ruined temple on Malachor, and rather be on some beach, bathing in starlight, shaded only by how Kylo’s hair curtains around them when he leans down to kiss him, the way he knows Hux likes.

The universe used to be so bleak, and Kylo Ren is a monster – Hux isn’t sure how Kylo turned him all around. He feels lost in his own head, but he’s fairly content to never find his way back. How can things be so unbearable, and so marvelous at once?

“Kylo Ren,” Snoke calls – and just like that, all of Kylo’s gladness is swept away. He stands in front of Hux, his body a shield – just like he did at the gala.

The threat is much greater now, though, and there is good reason for Hux to believe he won’t make it out of this one.

He doesn’t want to die anymore, and he's not unbothered by living or dying either – he actively wants to live, and that, of course, means that Death will conquer him now.

His life has been a shining example of Murphy’s Law – he knows by now. Everything he wants will always be just a touch out of reach. Close enough to smell it, to feel at it, to taste it, but always one, two, three – infinite steps ahead.

As soon as he’d like to live, he’ll die, because that’s how the universe works.

“I am done here,” Kylo states resolutely, “I will not apprentice to you after you’ve hurt Hux. I forfeit my title, and I will leave peacefully if you allow it.”

There’s a spike of fury from Rey, and he scowls at her – Hux imagines that Kylo must have had some sort of game play in his head about lulling Supreme Leader Snoke into a false sense of security, that her emotional beacon just ruined.

Snoke laughs, “you aren’t going to abandon your lessons now, Kylo Ren. You’ve done so well, and you’re close now to what you’ve wanted most. This is just one more lesson.”

“What lesson is this meant to be?”

Snoke looks at him very seriously, and asks, “what do you know of Darth Malgus, and his lover Eleena Daru?”

Hux rather hoped _someone_ would have the answer, so he wouldn’t have to hear Supreme Leader Snoke drone on, but Rey, and Kylo look equally confused, as Kylo answers; “nothing.”

Predictably, Supreme Leader Snoke seems all too glad to take the floor, and Hux is nauseous with anxiety; “Darth Malgus was deeply in love with Eleena Daru – he knew this would be a liability. He couldn’t bring himself to harm her, though. He loved her too much. He waited – he waited until his love was so powerful, it nearly overpowered his own mind, and when he was there, in that place of love, and madness, he found it in himself to kill her, as he knew he had to. He did not predict, though, how his power grew exponentially in the face of losing her – the loss of her became his greatest passion. He did not know what killing her would grant him.”

Perhaps Hux is unsurprised at this, because he’s numb from the torture – Rey and Kylo seem shocked enough to compensate for his lack of feeling. He’d like to say that it doesn’t really matter _why_ he dies, he’d really just like to get it over with, but he doesn’t think that will go over well.

“You… wanted this?” Kylo asks rhetorically, his shoulders stiffening, “You wanted all of this to happen - you wanted me to grow to care about him, for us to fight, for us to go mad - just so I could kill him?”

“A lamb to slaughter, as it were,” Hux mutters behind him.

Kylo pretends not to hear him, but Supreme Leader Snoke seems pleased. There’s an eerie certainty in Supreme Leader Snoke’s beady eyes, a telling pleasure with Hux for acknowledging his place.

“That is _not_ your place,” Kylo insists, turning his head to face Hux, “You are not – _not_ an animal. I won’t kill you. He can’t make me.”

Turning back to Supreme Leader Snoke, Kylo throws his saber to the ground in retaliation, and Hux watches how it rolls toward him, and hits his leg.

“Can’t I?”

Supreme Leader Snoke’s spidery hands splay out toward Kylo, and sweat beads over his face, his brow his furrowed in pain, his cheeks grow red as he strains, but then Rey, and Hux are watching in unison as Kylo’s arm is raised against his will.

 _Can he control your body?_ Hux whispers into Kylo’s mind.

_I hate him…_

That’s a yes, then.

“Kylo Ren, stop resisting,” Supreme Leader Snoke bargains with all the sensitivity, and likability of a snake charmer, “After this, you will be stronger than even me. You will have what you’ve wanted.”

Kylo doesn’t answer – maybe he can’t, Hux can’t really tell.

Rey’s saber flies through the air until it’s clenched in Kylo’s stiff hand, and Hux realizes rapidly what is about to happen.

Whether Kylo wants to or not, he will be made to kill Hux, and it will be done with Rey's saber.

Hux hopes Kylo doesn’t blame himself too terribly for it all. He knows Kylo will, he just wishes Kylo wouldn’t.

The universe is chaos, and linear time screeches to a halt for everyone, someday, and it just so happens that today, Hux’s time is up. It was never up to Kylo. He doesn't expect Kylo to genuinely understand that, though.

As Kylo’s body is Forced to turn toward him, Hux scrambles for Kylo’s discarded saber, which Supreme Leader Snoke finds amusing. Hux doesn't mind - everyone has always doubted him. Every step of the way.

When he was born, everyone that knew he existed thought nothing of him - that he was worth nothing, could become nothing, that he had no place.

While he grew, no one thought he was worth befriending, no one thought he was worth investing time and effort into, but for Phasma.

When he was grown, no one thought he could climb that ladder to greatness, but now he stands as General Hux of the First Order, a destroyer of worlds, a killer of stars, and genius engineer, and he never called in a favor, he never took a sick day, he splintered, he bled, he cried, he sweat, he hurt - himself,  _and_ others - he _made it_.

He made it, and he didn't ask for help along the way - he made his own place. He may not have had a place when he was born - maybe the galaxy was right for wanting to expel him from it like a tumor or virus. Maybe he wasn't meant to have a place, but he made one. There was no place for a man like him - his father was right. 

He is a monster, he is cold, he is calculating, he is stronger than he looks, quick by his tongue and hands, he is a viper, he is the harbinger of destruction, and strict order, a thunderstorm, a Something Greater trapped in a human man's body. There's not a seat in the audience of Life for a person like that. There was no place for him to make his home, so he carved a space out for himself, and he won't survive this. He won't survive this battle, and Kylo knows it, and he knows it, and Supreme Leader Snoke knows it, but damn it all if he won't prove he's worthy of fighting. 

If he's worth anything now, then he was always worth something - and he'll prove it. It will likely be the last thing he ever proves.

Rey reaches out toward Snoke, trying to break the control he has over Kylo through use of the Force, but Snoke’s power is strong, much better trained, and groomed than Rey's, and both Rey and Kylo are not rested enough – they cannot stop him. Rey doesn’t stop trying, though. Even as Kylo’s body is very robotically set into a fighting position, and all is set into motion - even as their fate is sealed. Hux finds that he can appreciate her stubbornness. She may not be wise to try and fight still, knowing this is a losing battle, but all Hux's life was a losing battle, and he made it this far. 

He made it this far.

Standing on weak legs, Hux gives Kylo a smile, and jokes darkly, “well, we always did say we’d like to kill each other, didn’t we?”

_No. You know that’s not how I feel. Not anymore._

Hux frowns, _of course I know._

It’s terrible. Yes, of course he knows.

His childhood was unfair – he knows.

His upbringing was unjust – he knows.

He should not have been put through what he went through, he should not have seen what he saw, heard what he did, done what he was forced to - he knows.

His mind was shredded, and his want for control was neurotic, manic, and no one cared – he knows.

His time with gladness, and affection, was so brief, and it’s over now – he knows. He never deserved that golden time, that golden feeling - he knows. What he’s done is despicable, and he’s a monster – he knows. Kylo is a monster – he knows. Kylo can’t really protect him from all that’s out there – Kylo can’t protect Hux from even himself. He knows. He’s always known.

That’s why it’s terrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darth Malgus is a canon Star Wars character and his story is also canon! Darth Malgus was a human, male, Sith Lord of the Sith Empire during the Great Galactic War. During a trip to the Outer Rim, Darth Malgus discovered a Twi'lek slave girl named Eleena Daru and bought her - you know, as one does. Even though she was technically his slave, the two fell in love and fought side by side as equals in many battles during the Great Galactic War against the Galactic Republic. Some war conflict made Malgus all emo and disillusioned with the Empire and, after reevaluating his relationship with Daru, he decided loving her was a liability and weakness. Thus, he was forced to kill his lover to preserve his own power, which he later used to cleanse the Empire of the politicians whom he blamed for allowing the Republic to survive. We all know Star Wars LOVES killing female characters to further the pain and progression of male characters and this is a good example of it; killing her was the most difficult thing he ever did, he felt destroyed after doing it, but it made him more powerful than ever and gave him something to Angst about. 
> 
> So yeah! That's all you might want/need to know! <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: so you guys know that foreboding MCD tag that's been at the top of this series forever?  
> Prep yourself for some death in this chapter and the upcoming ones.

 

“I can cook well.”

“What?”

Picking up Kylo’s lightsaber, and examining the hilt, Hux extrapolates, “I said I can cook well – I’m a good cook. Baker too. I’m good in a kitchen. It's the chemist in me, I think. I’m also rather good at gambling, though that hobby came to a less than fortunate end – you know how Phasma gets about me having any measure of fun. I’ve been undercover before, too, during my early fleet years, being trained in Special Forces, but my hair of all things wound up being so strangely iconic, and associated with me, I had to stop being sent on those missions, because our targets would recognize my –"

“The Hells are you talking about?”

Looking up at him, Hux’s expression is serious, even grim, and Kylo’s heart is sinking, and leaping, and brimming, and breaking, and Hux is talking about the fleet, and cooking, and Kylo is at a _complete loss_. His stare must communicate as much, because Hux drops his gaze from Kylo’s wide, misunderstanding eyes to the saber.

“Just telling you things about myself,” Hux elaborates loftily, “Letting you know things I’ve never let you know before. The bits we haven’t gotten to yet.”

The emotions that run through their open channel don’t have official names, no categories like Sad, Happy, Fearful, or Disgusted, that Kylo can fit them into. The emotions coming from Hux are tangled, complex, and nameless. His meaning is quite clear, though; _I thought we had more time than this. I thought we’d spend our lives together. I thought I’d sparse out the funny stories, and the quirks, and the hidden skills; sprinkle them over the expansive time we’d spend together. I have to fit in as much as I can before it’s over, though, because I thought time was on our side. I thought Time would wait for us, let us make up for all the that we lost. I see, now, that it won't, so I'm trying to fit a lifetime into the next few minutes._

Kylo hates that Hux doubts him, that Hux is so certain this is the end, but he can’t blame Hux either. He doesn’t know how to get out of this. He isn’t sure he can, he isn’t even sure it makes sense to try. He feels trapped – just as trapped and hopeless as Hux feels; he feels like all there is left to do, is surrender. He understands Hux’s feelings, and why he feels this way.

Still, that Hux is in the pains of doubt and regret at all, only serves to enrage him.

“ _Now_ is the time for this conversation?”

“It would seem this is the end of time for all conversation, may as well be now.”

Shaking his head, Kylo denies that statement outright as if it were something in his ear he could dislodge. His arms are shaking, his throat is tight, and everything is too warm.

Hux has always spoken about flat time, the end of time, the finite experiences of time to be had – how death is oblivion, nonexistence, how consciousness cannot possibly continue, and Kylo has never really believed that. Hux is the wisest man he’s ever known, but he always considered Hux much too spiritually void to understand or accept the afterlife.

Now, though, Kylo fears Hux might be right.

Now, that Death is before him, behind him – all around him – he isn’t sure there will be a Something afterward. Hux once told him in passing that, as far as experience is concerned, they’ve not existed for much longer than they’ve lived conscious lives. He implied with that, the return to all things – that all consciousness comes from the void, and returns to it with minimal discomfort, because one has far more experience not existing than one does actively living.

Now, that Death is pounding on the inside of Kylo’s skull, now that it’s making his palms sweat, and his knees ache with tension… what if it really is the end of all things?

He can’t stand it.

He can’t stand the thought that he’s brought Hux into this trap, he can’t stand the thought that he’ll be the one to betray Hux as he always seems to do, he can’t stand the thought that this is all there is, or ever will be. He can’t stand the thought that his time with Hux, with acquainting himself with kindness, soft hands, and soft lips, empathy, and adventure, is over. He can’t stand the thought of being separated from Hux. Not again. Not after everything. Not now – not ever.

“ _Stop_ talking about the end of time,” Kylo all but snarls, “You can defeat me. You have done it countless times before.”

And Hux has – in sparring, of course. The two of them are well-trained in the other’s techniques as far as that goes, but they both know this is different. The channel between them practically glows with this mutual understanding.

“Time is flat, Kylo – I’ve been unborn, born, living, dead, and dying just like this for every moment I’ve consciously experienced. In regard to linear time, in regard to _us_ , _our_ time is done, Kylo, but I can assure you that, as you promised, it has been memorable, and… inarguably fascinating.”

 

* * *

 “Of course. Have you ever heard a saying; that the devil’s greatest trick was convincing the world he did not exist?”

“In this scenario, you are the devil, then?”

“Mind tricks will not do. I would like your introduction into the Force to be memorable, and inarguably fascinating. You will not need to pretend to be impressed. So, nevermind the mind tricks. Allow me to show you an illusion, instead...”

* * *

 

So much has changed since that moment – since that thread-of-the-soul altering moment. Then, in that Before time, in that era of The Best Has Yet To Come – Hux kept his heart slow, even, controlled, his eyes gave nothing away, and his body was – _different_.

All of him was different.

Kylo was too.

He likes to think he’s changed for the better, but all he really knows is that he’s changed exponentially, and mostly for the sake of Hux, but that his marionette strings are as taught and secure as ever. So, how much could he really have changed?

Unlike that first illusion, that first lightning strike of attraction and intrigue between them, Hux is not hiding behind anything at all. His eyes are shimmering, volumes of emotion writ over his face, and his heart rate is steadily inclining – he embodies sincerity now. In what he’s thinking are his last moments, he wants to be genuine for Kylo, and Kylo almost despises him for it.

“ _Stop it_. Stop saying these – just – you have defeated me before – you must do it again,” Kylo insists, “ _Now_. I cannot go on, knowing that I –"

“You know I can’t, and you know I won’t,” Hux interrupts, his eyes, and heart, and the set of his shoulders explaining very clearly that his opinion on the matter won’t be changed, “You’re fooling yourself, Kylo. Don’t mimic blindness – it’s unbecoming. You and I both know this is the end; let’s part with some dignity.”

“I don’t want this to be the end – I _can’t_ – I don’t want our time to be _finite_ , Hux,” Kylo confesses, sounding exceedingly anxious, the knowledge of what is about to happen breaking over his back like boulders, crumbling down his spine, leaving him broken, bruised, and heavy-hearted.

“Aurelien, or Ari, will do, and time _is_ finite, Kylo. What I feel for you, though, is unending.”

Kylo’s panic and despair crescendos at the admission of Hux’s name, that permission to use it like a sacred spell finally being granted – then Aurelien ignites the red saber, looks him in the eye, and adds on almost nonchalantly, “you see, I’m… rather hopelessly in love with you, and I hear that’s the type of thing that transcends space-time despite the void’s best efforts to swallow it whole.”

The physical world seems unreal.

Was anything real before Aurelien Hux? Kylo isn’t sure.

* * *

“How do you know when anything is real?”

“I could ask you the same question, and I imagine neither of us would have a ready answer with inarguable evidence to support it,” Kylo had replied, “Reality is an experience through the medium of time, not the passing of it. If time is endless, then so is reality, and the infinite ways it can be experienced through sentient beings. Reality, or our perception of it, is arbitrary at best, and false at worst. To describe something as real is to assign any other meaningless name to it.”

* * *

 

No, perhaps nothing _was_ real until Aurelien Hux.

“In love with me?” Kylo asks, as if the idea that anyone could feel that way, ever, for _him_ , particularly now, is inconceivable.

“Deeply, dreadfully, entirely, and irrevocably,” Aurelien assures, “I’d have liked a life with you, Kylo. A long one. One with children belonging to the two of us, and your illusions and mind tricks, and insatiable curiosity. I’d have liked to cook for you, I’d have liked to get drunk with you, I think. I’d have liked you to have your own side of my bed, I’d have liked to share closet space with you, conquer worlds with you, sit in the quiet with you. I’d have liked a life with you to laugh in, to paint in, to do all the most meaningless and meaningful things there are to be done. I’d have liked to live a life with you… a _life_ with you, a life so entwined with yours, and a life so prosperous, and long – until there was no one left in the known universe that had ever known us apart...”

Tears well up in Kylo’s dark eyes because that all sounds so blissful, so honest, and every breath of each wish Aurelien has is returned tenfold. Kylo aches with it – he never let himself hope that much. Aurelien wasn’t supposed to be golden, Aurelien wasn’t supposed to have a heart with room enough to spare, he wasn’t supposed to love Kylo back.

"Yes," Aurelien says, "That's what I'd have liked."

When Kylo nearly confessed his love, and Aurelien covered his mouth with both hands, as if panicked at the very idea of Kylo’s affections being vocalized, Kylo thought that would be the rest of his life. He’d spend his life loving someone more than they were capable of loving him at all, and he was pained, but he accepted that destiny, because, no matter if his feelings were reciprocated, he couldn’t accept a life _without_ Aurelien

He still can’t.

“So, yes,” Aurelien says again nervously, thoughtfully, “I am very, very much… in love with you.”

“I…” – Kylo swallows a hot lump of tears before being able to respond properly, “I love you back, Aurelien.”

“Huh,” Hux huffs with aloof wonderment, “I should’ve let you use it sooner. Sounds lovely in your baritone. I could’ve grown to like it, even.”

Somehow, Kylo’s heart sinks further than it already lies.

“Don’t let me do this – find a way out, please, Ari,” Kylo begs, Rey’s lightsaber igniting in his hold.

“There _is_ no way out,” Hux assures him, circling Kylo as he so often did during sparring, “It is as you have always said; your destiny is greater than my own. There is more for you to do. Perhaps Nali was right all along – we’re soul mates, or whatever nonsense she proposed. And if we are, then just… switch channels of reality, and find me again someday.”

“I don’t want to have to find you, Aurelien, I want you to _stay_ with me –"

“We have a _dance_ , Kylo,” Aurelien reminds him abruptly, teary-eyed, sounding stern, though, as he throws down the first blow of saber against saber, “You _promised_ me a dance. Don’t you dare stand me up.”

Kylo’s panic worsens, feels walls closing in on the inside of himself. He doesn’t deserve to dance with Aurelien. He wants to, though. He’d have liked that long life too – a life with time, and peace enough to dance with Aurelien, somewhere prying eyes, and endless wars couldn’t find them.

“ _Aurelien_ –"

“At least I am dying spectacularly.”

Kylo might beseech Aurelien again to kill him, he might want to scream, or beg, or pray, or do something equally as useless, but he’s paralyzed by the dawning realization that Aurelien will die.

Aurelien _will_ die, and by _his_ hand, as he is meant to, and always has been, as Kylo foresaw so long ago – Aurelien knows this, and Kylo knows it, though he doesn’t want to know it.

Their sabers clash again, Kylo’s weight bearing down on Aurelien’s while sparks fly between the refracted blades, making fireworks in Aurelien’s eyes.

“The most renowned General of the First Order, unable to be taken down by his innumerable enemies, killed in a lightsaber battle at the hands of the only love he ever knew,” Aurelien narrates solemnly, as if hoping Kylo will take notes for his obituary, “… the only soul he ever saved.”

They break apart only to come together again, the buzzing clash of the sabers the only noise registering in Kylo’s head besides Aurelien’s voice.

“Just think, Kylo – there will be odes, epics about us – maybe even statues made of us,” Aurelien suggests with a wink.

They’re both caught off-guard somehow when Kylo’s lightsaber bites into Aurelien’s shoulder, and Aurelien seethes, pulling a sob from Kylo’s chest.

“I swore to protect you…”

“And you loved me instead,” Aurelien intercepts determinedly, huffing from the pain of the burn, eyes sharp and lethal as always, though, “Kylo. Don’t dishonor my memory with something other than a… destiny of power unlike the universe has ever known.”

“The universe, my destiny, power – it is all useless, _meaningless_ without you –"

“If you are never certain of anything again – your destiny, your power, your place in the universe, know one thing is true; I have loved you. Most sincerely.”

“ _Please stop me_ ,” Kylo sobs, tears coming to stream down his face, making tracks in the soot and sweat.

“Do you remember the first honest thing you ever said to me?” Aurelien inquires.

The channel between them blossoms with life, and an outpouring of energy – they both remember the event in question simultaneously. Of course, Kylo remembers. It is, as most memories he has formed beside Aurelien Hux, entirely unforgettable.

* * *

“Tell me something honest.”

* * *

That’s what Hux had said. And Kylo thought it could have been a dare or a joke, but knew in the back of his mind that no such request from a man like Hux was to be taken lightly.

* * *

“Tell me something you would tell no other…not even Supreme Leader Snoke.”

* * *

Kylo remembers how uncertain he was – how treasonous that entire sleep cycle was, how he cared so deeply about what Hux thought of him, how badly he wanted Hux’s favor, and trust. How he couldn’t recall wanting something like that before – maybe wanting anything at all, before. He remembers being a raw nerve under Hux’s unwavering scrutiny. He remembers not minding.

* * *

“I… when I killed my… when I killed Ben Solo’s father… he fell. He was alive for a short time as he fell. I dared not read his thoughts, but I sensed that he was dying with many regrets. I have visions of him. His death, moments of his life with Ben Solo – I hear parts of conversations. I think often of the scoundrel others described him as – he had many reasons for regret. Most of his life he spent as a criminal and lowlife. But I feel fear. Real fear – the terror you spoke of, the maladaptive, counterproductive venom – I feel it when I think that… Ben Solo’s existence was his greatest regret.”

* * *

Kylo remembers how the shame and anger filled up his eyes, and made his entire face hot – the same way it feels now.

* * *

“He had no tools to communicate with Ben. He was an adequate provider and, at times, even offered sound advice. At times. But he was often absent. Even when he was beside me – _Ben_. Ben. When he was… Ben… the boy was always uncertain of his welcome. It was as if he had intruded upon a honeymoon, and while his mother was willing to acclimate to the change, his father could not. Or would not. Ben felt like a visitor in his own home, a visitor overstaying their welcome. And when his parents sent him away to train as a Jedi, it felt like confirmation. He was a regret. A sense of belonging alluded him for most of his life. His ghost haunts me, though. And it despises me for what I’ve done. For having killed the lowlife, absent criminal he once barely knew – and worse than the loathing his ghost feels inside me… he feels the rejection again. The confirmation that he never belonged. That he was never wanted – never meant to be.”

* * *

Their sabers clash again, Kylo’s ears are ringing, and he is finding it increasingly difficult to keep Aurelien’s stare. He has to, though. He can’t look away. Not when their time is running out – not when the universe is falling apart at the seams, and Kylo can feel it collapsing like a dying star in his chest.

* * *

“All Ben Solo was – ever was – was a regret. The deepest regret of a man who had thousands of regrets to choose from. And it haunts me.”

* * *

“You know, I thought – at the time – when you said that – I thought it was a terrible waste of your power,” Aurelien shares.

Kylo sends his curiosity through the channel more than he asks for Aurelien’s meaning in any observable way.

“Any man can stay with a person as they die,” Aurelien explains, banging their sabers together over, and over, as he speaks, “Stars knows that I’ve sat beside innumerable dying men, been the last thing they saw, heard, touched – but their consciousness was their own. They were alone in their heads as they had always been. As it stands now, I don’t remember what life was like _without_ someone having constant access to my mind – whether or not you use that power – that you are able to be with me, in there… it makes me feel less alone.”

There are a many great powers Kylo has prided himself on in his life, but never was one of them the ability to comfort anyone. Everything Aurelien says to him is jarring, but that’s the way it’s always been, he thinks.

“Be brave for me this time,” Aurelien asks kindly, as though it were the only thing he would or could ever ask of Kylo, “You couldn’t stay with Han Solo as he fell, but stay with me – so few men have the privilege of company in their mind at any point in their life, and I have you. You have me. Keep me company, please. I’d prefer not to be alone, when it all ends.”

“ ** _Don’t_ ** –" Kylo chokes, shaking his head – Aurelien isn’t allowed to be scared, Aurelien doesn’t feel simple mortal emotions like _fear_ ; Aurelien is immovable, above Man, above Gods, above the Force – “Don’t – _please_ , just –"

Their sabers beat against each other violently again, sliding with the force they press into one another. They’re both short of breath, and the channel between them has never been more open; Kylo can tell, because it’s like experiencing two realities at once, like having a pair of eyes on the back of his head, seeing, and feeling more than the Force has ever offered.

Aurelien is thinking that Kylo is handsome, and that it’s a shame he can’t see it for himself, that he hopes Kylo finds some measure peace again, after he is dead, that there are truly no eyes in the galaxy like Kylo’s.

That he loves Kylo.

“I have loved you, Kylo Ren – Ben Solo, every man you have ever been in all time, and all space. And time may have a conclusion, but my love for you is endless.”

Swallowing roughly, Kylo stares wide-eyed at Aurelien, at the red and green lights shaping out his bone structure, making dramatic shadows over his entire countenance.

“Endless. Do you understand me?”

Kylo only shakes his head more furiously, his breaths getting more shallow, and coming in faster.

“Stop – _stop_ , I _can’t_ do this, you can’t _let me_ , I can’t _do this_ –"

Kylo can’t help but notice how much he sounds like Aurelien as a child, begging not to kill his brother – but Aurelien Hux is so much more than a brother, and these woods are so much deeper, so much darker than the Hux estate.

Aurelien is a kindred spirit. He is order where Kylo has only known tangled chaos. He is the eye of calm in Kylo’s storm, he is the comfort Kylo sought in all the wrong places – Kylo doesn’t need forgiveness from a God, so long as Aurelien Hux forgives him for what he’s done, and who he has been – General Aurelien Roane Hux will break Kylo’s chains, and Kylo will be free. If Aurelien Hux loves him, Kylo needs no other love – divine or otherwise.

He needs nothing else – not air, water, food – let him fall apart, and fade away, let him be nothing but devotion to Aurelien Hux. Let him be some unquantifiable, untamable energy that created something endless by just existing – let him be infinite for how much he loves Aurelien Hux, and how impossible, and perfect, and terrible it is that Aurelien loves him back.

“I know – you’re hopeless, can’t do a thing on your own, can you?” Aurelien teases.

In a very quick series of motions, Aurelien’s borrowed saber is gone, and his hand is a crushing weight around Kylo’s wrist, guiding Kylo’s saber through his own chest.

Tears spilling from Kylo’s eyes drip from his lashes and jawline, his eyes wide, and face pale, staring at where Rey’s saber is piercing Aurelien’s chest – just the way he saw it in his dream. Just the way it was meant to be.

Kylo knows it will take a few moments for Aurelien to die from the wound, just as it took Han Solo a few moments in free-fall to truly pass away – he’s petrified.

He can sense Aurelien’s lungs stiffening up, he can feel the hot blood in Aurelien’s throat, and it takes a herculean effort to meet Aurelien’s eyes. Shame, loathing, and shock make everything seem slowed down, make all his muscles tremor, make his stomach churn, make the veins around his heart shiver as if from a fever.

Feeling sick, Kylo fights the urge to retreat, to scream, to pull his ashy soul from the fire he and Aurelien have found themselves stuck in – he can sense that Aurelien is too hurt to speak. He knows Aurelien will die soon, at his hand, loving him unconditionally, as he never deserved – the same way Han Solo did, the same way Ben Solo did, the same way so many have, but none have meant this to him.

After the first death, there is no other.

Somehow, despite all the bloodshed, this is Kylo’s first death. It’s his irreplaceable. It hurts beyond pain, it torments beyond reason, it tortures beyond comprehensibility.

Like a wounded animal, Kylo wants to fall back, crawl into some dark woods to die from the pain, alone, tormented only by his own mind, but Aurelien asked him to stay. Aurelien asked him to be with him at the end.

Kylo keeps Aurelien’s lidded stare while letting himself be felt surrounding the inside of Aurelien’s mind. Those icy eyes sparkle like the points of daggers with a smile that’s too weak to shape his lips.

He couldn’t do this for Han – Aurelien was right. He doesn’t feel like he can do this now for Aurelien either, but there is nothing to be done for it. He can’t _not_ to this for Aurelien, no matter the pain, or cost.

_I am a man with infinite reason for regret, but I want you to know that in my last moments, I can assure you I have not regretted a single action._

Kylo can’t hide his surprise at this – they can both feel Rey’s oppressive disgust, her hatred for the both of them, but neither mind it. Kylo’s eyes are round in a way Aurelien wishes he could find humorous, but there’s little left in him but human fear, bottomless sadness, and cosmic love.

 _Everything I ever said, did, or thought, lead me to a fate twined with yours, and no matter how I try, I cannot regret you, and so I cannot regret anything that lead me to you_ , Aurelien explains, as if it were so simple as that.

As if Kylo was ever supposed to be something _other_ than a regret to anyone that had the misfortune of knowing him.

 _Don’t think like that_ , Aurelien admonishes, _You are the most spectacular experience of my life, and for you, with you, I created something infinite. My mother was right – this love, this impossible enormity I feel for you, is absolutely infinite. I love you, and it’s endless._

Kylo makes some aborted, choked noise, and opens his mouth to say something, but Aurelien interrupts his thought process by pinning on, _I do. I have, I do, and I will, for all that has ever been, is, or shall be. Understood?_

Kylo’s jaw feels wired and simultaneously numb, hanging open on words he can’t pull together. Aurelien doesn’t mind his silence – he can feel Kylo in his head, and that is somehow precisely what he needs. It is, somehow, all he needs.

_Now, tell me you love me back, you menace._

Rather than a semi-verbal Force response, Kylo widens their channel, and floods it until it’s brimming; in an endless loop, he feels horrendous despair, and love so true, it can only be painful. He feels how Aurelien feels it through the channel, and it’s fed back to him, flowing right back into Aurelien. There is love, despair, and Light, brimming and toppling like a river overflowing, and he can feel how Aurelien is… alarmed.

He’s alarmed that he was, is – has been – so loved by someone.

There is a young boy somewhere in Aurelien, a young boy that only goes by Hux, and didn’t think love like this was real, or attainable. A young boy that believed he’d never have it, because he could never _earn_ it. Before he knew that unconditional love was not a thing to be earned, or deserved.

Aurelien certainly feels undeserving of it, but he covets it – he wants it, anyway, feeling certain he hasn’t earned it, that any love for him is positively cursed, that anyone who loves him will die horribly for it, or be disappointed when he doesn’t change into someone else for the sake of the love given to him.

There’s a young boy screaming in a sunny field somewhere, covered in blood, slashed across his back, a knife embedded in his ribs, a gory hatchet near him, and for once, the screams stop. The voice dies out, trails off, and all that's left is the sour-sweet smell of death in the air, and the chirping of nearby birds.

He’s been heard, he’s been seen and, somehow, he’s been loved. And, somehow, that's enough.

Quiet fills Aurelien’s head and heart – the noise of firing synapses crackling down to embers, his heart beating at seventy beats per minute, fifty-three beats per minute, forty beats per minute, thirty-one beats, twenty-eight beats, twenty beats…

Unsure of how he does it, when, or how quickly, Kylo gets Rey’s saber away from the both of them, he disengages it, and throws it far away from Aurelien. He doesn’t let Aurelien fall – he never has, and he never will.

He lowers Aurelien onto the glossy, obsidian ground, watches thin tears slide down from the corners of his eyes, listens to him struggle for breath, listens to his heart beating twenty beats per minute, eighteen beats per minute, fifteen beats per minute…

Kylo can feel Aurelien’s desire to touch him, but his inability to do so now that his body is slowly losing power; he can see how everything gets dark for Aurelien, how it all gets blurry around the edges in Aurelien’s eyes, but Aurelien is unbothered. To appease his desire for touch, Kylo crouches over him, touches their foreheads together, whispers roughly, and thickly, “I love you. I’ve loved you from the start. I loved you first. I love you, Ari.”

There has never been anything said in this galaxy, or any other, from any other sentient form, that has been as true, or everlasting, Kylo knows it, because when he says it, he barely knows that he has. It's the lurch of his soul, it's the twisting in his chest, it's the constriction of his throat, it's how their bodies melded like spiral galaxies colliding, it's what's beautiful and terrible, and they both deserved in spades, and not at all. It's true, because it hurts, it's real, and he knows it, because it's all of him.

Aurelien Roane Hux was born in secrecy, on an icy moon, to a woman with green eyes, and flowing red hair, and no ability to save him from his destiny.

Aurelien Roane Hux dies in an ancient Sith Temple, on the planet Malachor, limp in Kylo Ren’s arms, with a ghost of a smile on his face.

And before it all goes black, before there’s a sudden void in the Force, before there's the punch of a blackhole in the fabric of time where Aurelien used to occupy - Kylo sees through Aurelien’s mind’s eye – he sees their illusion. He sees the garden, the house, the beach, feels the wave of bittersweet gladness for having loved, and been loved in return, that moves through Aurelien before there is nothing left.

Until he is a shell with shut eyes, a gentle expression of surrender, hair beautifully mussed, impeccable uniform torn, burned, and bloodied.

Until he is lost, lost, lost, and gone, gone, gone, forever, and ever, and ever.

Until there _is_ no Aurelien Roane Hux.

 

* * *

 

With no mind to keep tethered to, Haas shoots upright in sudden wakefulness, cold sweat dripping from his scalp, down his neck, and across his back. Even his bones feel wrong – his blood feels sluggish, too thick, he’s nauseous, and the room is spinning.

None of that matters, though.

He feels righteous hatred flood him – he _knew_ Kylo Ren was dangerous, he _knew_ Kylo Ren could not be trusted, but he thought Kylo Ren was meant to _protect_ Hux. He was meant to protect them _all_ , and he has _killed Hux_.

“What’s going on? What’s happening? Are you alright, Haas?”

Jardom’s voice registers very gradually, as though Haas were only just emerging from a long time under water, or his ears were popping into clarity – he pushes off the bed, stumbles past Jardom, even as Jardom tries to stop him, and help him stand. He can’t stand to be touched – even the fabric around his body is hatefully uncomfortable, but he's sure if he stripped his clothing off, he would only feel as though his skin were too much on him.

“Missiles,” Haas mumbles, his skin pallid, and sickly, “Black and Gold. I will kill him. I'll kill him for what he's done.”

“What? What are you talking about? I have water right here - please, sit down. What's happened?” Jardom asks helplessly, watching as Haas strips off the outer most layers of Hux’s borrowed uniform.

 _He means to kill the Knight_ , the ring warns Jardom.

Strangely, Jardom’s first concern is not so much that Haas wants to kill Lord Kylo Ren, but what the death of Lord Kylo Ren might do to Nali.

He knows Haas spent a lot of time with the General while Lord Kylo Ren was gone for training, but he can’t know with all certainty whether or not Haas knows the codes to fire those missiles.

Frankly, he knows Haas is smart enough to break those codes, though, even if he doesn't know them, and Haas can, and maybe will, override those security systems – even those programmed by General Hux. Haas is, quite terrifyingly, similar in intellect and temperament to the General – if he means to fire those missiles, Jardom has to stop him.

“Haas – you are unwell. There were no orders to fire the missiles. Just tell me what has happened – you’re awake, but they are not back yet. You shouldn’t be awake –"

Jardom swears he hears his jaw audibly crack when it’s met with Haas’s fist.

He’s thrown to the ground with the force of it, left dizzy, and confused. He looks up as Haas’s cloudy eyes scowl down at him.

“They’re not coming back, you idiot! There were never going to come back! That perverse monk left this ship  _meaning_ to kill the General himself, and has accomplished just that – with _our help_!”

“The General… he’s dead?”

“ _Yes_!” Haas shouts, tears in his throat, “That – that great big _beast_ you all so blindly adore, that fumbling, disgusting idiot has _murdered_ him!”

While Jardom gathers himself from the shock of the news, Haas leaves the quarters in a clumsy rush of numb limbs, and painful pins, and needles, holding onto walls, and thresholds, as he passes them. He leaves sweaty imprints of his hands on every surface he touches, struggling his way through the ship.

He doesn’t look back, though - not that Haas has ever looked for any help from anyone, and by Haas's seemingly psychotic break, Jardom knows Lord Kylo Ren must be in great peril – Naos Haas is slim, but strong, he is quiet, but dangerous, and if there is anyone that will go to any length to avenge General Hux, it is Haas.

Jardom knows Lord Kylo Ren is in danger, but his mourning mounts, and he doesn’t know that he wants to save Lord Kylo Ren from Haas's wrath – he knows Nali will be crushed by this news of the General’s passing, he wonders what the Captain will do, if she will recover from it, how cross Millicent will be when her father doesn’t return -

 _There is no time for this, young one_ , the ring tells him, _You know this is not the way._

“I can’t leave Nali unattended,” Jardom reasons, knowing he is rationalizing his selfishness, “Haas has woken – she may wake too. She may need me.”

_You are the only one who knows where the Bruised One is going, what he is planning, and how quickly he can work. It must be you. Go now. Before there is more loss._

Inhaling deeply, Jardom stands, shuts his eyes, and swallows the strong desire to sob.

He glares at the path of abandoned clothes Haas has made, clothes once belonging to something of a father-figure to him.

“ _More_ loss,” Jardom murmurs to himself darkly, “More lost fathers. More lost friends. More lost allies. More lost protectors. They are all lost at the end, but they did not need to be stolen from us. Haas is not wrong to be angry. He is not wrong to want justice, or vengeance. Who am I to tell him he is wrong?”

_He means harm, young one. Dark Forces and feelings can be used for good, for healing, for insight, and strength, but bitterness will only fuel more bitterness. Release your bitterness, young one. Go do what you know is right. Stop him._

There is hesitation - the temptation to disobey the ring is great, but Jardom is aware that the maternal voice is correct about him. He has never been one to act out in rage - not that he has never felt rage, but he controls himself. He finds a way to center, and calm himself, before anyone is hurt by his words or hands. And he's lost enough people. If the General is truly gone, Jardom would prefer to not lose anyone else. Not even Haas.

So, without another spiteful word, Jardom goes after Haas, leaving the ring alone with Nali.

Nali, whose slumber, and tie to Lord Kylo Ren, is growing more, and more unstable by the second.


	13. Chapter 13

There was a time once that Kylo thought about how difficult it was for Hux to actually fall asleep during sleep cycles, and how it might have been useful to steal his consciousness from him every so often, to ensure a restful sleep. There was once a time that Kylo imagined how he might catch Hux as he fainted, the way he once did to Rey when capturing her as a hostage; he had thought that the short daydream of a limp, helpless Hux was very nearly comedic, when he first imagined it.

Now that Kylo is faced with Hux’s limp, helpless body, he can only think of it as nightmarish, though.

It is unnatural, its powerless stance, the sad figure it cuts into the ground - it has no rightful place in reality for how cruel, and terrible, and hideous it is.

“Do you feel the power, Kylo Ren?” Master Snoke asks, a prediction already in the tone of his voice, “It is what you have wanted. You can feel it, can’t you?”

_Get to safety, Rey._

From where she’s been thrown to the ground by Master Snoke’s dismissive hand, she stares at Kylo’s back while he rises to stand.

“What…?”

Lightning bursts from the palms of Kylo’s hands, and Master Snoke is trying to break through to him telepathically, trying to puppeteer him, trying to encourage the greatness of his power while reigning it back in, but Kylo’s energy is a field around him, and his mind has been made impenetrable.

The death of the General has compromised him too greatly.

The black figure Kylo cuts into the billowing smoke is a haunting image, something from a child’s nightmare, but his voice is restrained, as if he is holding back a tsunami with only his body.

_Tell Leia Organa what you know of me. Tell her that I regret the pain I caused her – that I know an apology is meaningless in the face of what I have done, but tell her anyway._

Master Snoke calls verbally for Kylo to obey him, trying to shout over the loud crackling of lightning that is vining its way up Kylo’s legs, arms, and wrapping around his body like overgrown plant life. It is everywhere, and so is his rage, his pain, his heavy, heavy loss.

_And if she can bear to listen to another word, if you tell her nothing else – tell her this – tell her that I am glad to have lost it all, just to have had it all for the short time I did. Tell her I see now what she lost when I went away, when I took Han from her. Tell her that I missed her at the end. Tell her that despite it all, she would have liked Hux – I’m sure of it. Tell her I knew what love was – that I was loved in return. That I was happy for a time. Tell her that. Please._

Rey’s heart aches a little for him, mostly for Leia, a little for Kylo, but no matter who her heart wrenches more for, she nods dutifully, summoning her saber where it lies now, closer to her than to the fallen man.

 _I will_ , she promises Kylo, and she means it.

_You have my gratitude, Rey. Now go._

Once she has her saber in hand, she makes a quick escape – Kylo’s energy pushes outward in waves like a quake that he is the epicenter of. It’s pushing her out, it’s disorienting, and Master Snoke is so consumed with trying to leash the power pouring out from Kylo that he doesn’t consciously register her leaving. He doesn’t care – not when there is a honing beacon of immense power radiating right before him.

She only catches one last glimpse of Kylo before she takes to the pod, and leaves in a hurry – she sees Kylo turn around to face Snoke, his own saber igniting, every inch of him wrapped up in electric blue sparks, eyes black as space with no white in them, no sclera left.

As she leaves Malachor, all she can think of is that she must get to General Leia Organa, and that soon, there will be nothing left of Malachor or Kylo Ren.

 

* * *

 

 _I_ _’m so sorry. You brought me joy in this life, and that means more than you can ever know. Love and greatness will be yours, I will see it done in life and death. On Tython, the last Jedi are training – seek out the Jedi called Rey – she will give you refuge when you are most in need. Tell her you were sent by me. When you can, when it is safe to, go to Naalol – find the Angels. They are for you, now._

Nali wakes up coughing, her body feels hot as a fever, and she sheds Lord Kylo Ren’s cloaks, crawling onto her knees and hands, a cramp in her lower stomach that won’t quit. She gets to the refresher, and throws cold water onto her face, swallowing some if it, and cooling the fire in her blood. Her entire body is throbbing like a vein cut open, and bleeding out. Her head feels like grey-ed out mud, stepped through with heavy boots, and she feels much more sick than she expected to.

Images of a route through mountains and forest she’s never been to before are still flashing in her head – she can still hear Lord Kylo Ren’s voice ringing in her ears too. She is unsure what he means by all that he has said, but she thinks she will have time to decipher the message once she can rest. This does not feel like a time that she can rest, though. She feels she must move.

At that thought, she goes out to the room, and finds blankets thrown to the ground, where Haas was meant to be asleep, and by the far wall, there is blood.

It doesn't take much mental fortitude to figure out that Haas and Jardom must have gotten into some altercation – Jardom is unlikely to initiate violence, which leads her to believe Haas has hurt Jardom, and it must have been over something entirely psychotic (explaining the mess of the room), or very important. There is no other reason Jardom would leave her in a vulnerable state - his loyalty to her is unwavering, and she knows he would not abandon her while unconscious unless he absolutely had to.

Once she is standing upright, breathing evenly, and evaluating, she still feels a little sick, but the cool water, and the check-in back to reality, helped immensely - and she gets the sense she needs to have her wits about her. There's something amiss in the air.

Touching at the General’s dagger on her waist side for reassurance, she leaves the room, and goes out in search of Haas and Jardom.

 

* * *

 

“You have ruined me.”

“Don't be so dramatic, Kylo Ren. I gave you precisely what you _wanted_ ,” Master Snoke tells him calmly, “You wanted the greatest power there is to be had in the Force, you knew that power came at great sacrifice, and now you have it. You’ve tapped into it – all you have to do is control it, and that's where I can help you.”

“I will not be _controlled anymore_!” Kylo shouts, too conscientious of Hux’s body lying on the ground behind him, unable to ignore it, "All you have _ever_ seen me as is a puppet! You _used_ me - you used _Hux_! I end this - once, and for all - _now_!"

He may tear the fabric of space apart with his fury, alone.

He sees the realization dawn on Master Snoke’s features as he advances – he sees the change in Master Snoke’s eyes, that moment of clarity where Master Snoke sees now that he can’t control Kylo. The moment of clarity, where Master Snoke sees that the only soul that ever had a chance at controlling Kylo, and Kylo's power, was Hux, and Master Snoke has taken Hux away.

 _He’s taken Hux away_.

The lightning surrounding Kylo brightens, flashing neon, and he feels Haas’s presence, very suddenly. It punctures his spine like a blade, and Haas's contagious rage feeds Kylo's own.

He stretches himself beyond Malachor, beyond the light years between himself and _Aurora_ , and he can see Haas – he’s pale as death, sweating, and punching codes into a console.

Kylo knows what he’s doing.

_Do it._

Haas jumps, looks around the office, and then scowls down at the console, **_shut up_** _– you murderer._ **You murderer** _! We trusted you!_ **We all trusted you** _! Get out of my head! I never should have listened to you! I never should have left General Hux alone with you!_

_Send the missiles, Officer Haas. Send them._

After those encouragements, Kylo drags his attention back to Master Snoke, puts his faith in Haas, and Haas's hatred of him, and sets out to kill Master Snoke - to banish him to whatever Hells there may or may not be – Master Snoke said it himself, that Kylo would become stronger than even him, once Hux was gone.

He sets out now to prove it.

If this is what was meant to him when he was told he had a destiny greater than any other - he believes it now. There is no greater purpose than to restore justice to the universe where there is a tear left by the absence of Hux - everything is so lopsided, and wrong without him, without his energy, the scent of him, the sound of him - and Hux always did hate asymmetry. 

Kylo will restore equilibrium - the way Hux would have wanted him to.

He will do what must be done, as Hux would have seen done.

He will avenge Hux, no matter what that means.

 

* * *

 

“Naos.”

Abruptly, Haas turns to see Jardom standing in the doorway of Hux’s office space. His eyes turn to angry slits.

Jardom is nervous, and it’s apparent – just as apparent as Haas’s psychotic rage.

Haas pulls a blaster from the back of his uniform pants, and points it half-heartedly at Jardom. It is only a warning; there is only dim intent in his mismatched eyes.

“Don’t do anything ill-advised, Gillash,” Haas warns shakily.

Jardom gives pause, but not much.

“I could tell you the same thing, Naos,” he responds coolly, “Put the blaster down. You and I are not enemies. We never have been. There was no order to fire those missiles – you could be killed for treason if you fire them without order.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Haas screams, voice cracking, “How are you still so blind?! General Hux is _dead_! He’s _gone_! That _murderer_ – Kylo Ren – _killed him_! And how could I count on you or Vitaan to care at all about that!? None of you _ever_ cared about the Order, _or_ General Hux the way I did! None of you were willing to sacrifice everything! Well, I did! _I_ did! I will avenge him, and I will do it with or without your blessings, Gillash, because you and Vitaan are cowards that would stand by and do _nothing_ , otherwise!”

“This is not the way, Naos,” Jardom insists, even as Naos goes back to punching codes in, “The universe is an equilibrium – it will find its balance, and Lord Kylo Ren will suffer for his wrongdoings, but you cannot –"

“I am _sick_ and _tired_ of being told what I can and cannot do!” Haas yells back, his blaster still in hand.

“You probably should not have joined the military, then.”

Both young men turn to face the doorway, and Nali stands there, looking tired, wrung out, but not as sick as Haas.

Jardom is ecstatic to see her up and about – he cannot contain his smile.

“You are well, Nali?”

“Yes,” she replies, smiling to Jardom, before turning her stern expression back towards Haas, “but I see that Naos is not. Naos – whatever you think you’re doing, it is not rational.”

“Well, rational or not, your oh-so beloved Lord Kylo Ren ordered it of me,” Haas sneers.

Nali’s brows pull together, and Jardom shifts a little to stand a bit more between Haas and Nali. The tension is rising in the room, and Jardom has a bad feeling.

“Lord Kylo Ren would not have you kill General Hux, and himself,” Nali says – her tone is fearful, though - she is unsure, and she has every right to be.

Haas glares up at her from under his brow, his mismatched eyes lit up with madness, “seeing as he’s already killed General Hux, I can’t say I would rely on your judge of character, Vitaan.”

This is what Jardom feared – he hoped to break the news to Nali gently, in a place where it would be safe to cry, and throw things, express herself however she may need to.

Now, though, she bends at her knees, her chest moves forward, her eyes sharpen, looking ready to attack Naos, and she says to Naos venomously, “ _liar_.”

“Why should I lie about this?” Haas asks, angrily moving his hands over the console – a ticking of a timer starts, and Jardom’s heart rate sky-rockets.

“Because you hate Lord Kylo Ren! You’ve always hated him! You are jealous and bitter, Naos! You have no right to do this! You have no right to spread such hateful lies!”

“You sound just like Amavia.”

Time freezes for Nali.

She shakes her head.

“Do not! Do not say such a thing to me!”

“Why not?” Haas mocks furiously, “What do I have left to lose? I have already lost you, I have lost General Hux – I have lost everything.”

Generally, Jardom would think that it’s all quite self-pitying, what Haas is up to, but a mad man who honestly believes he has nothing else to lose is dangerous. He has a loaded blaster in his hand, and the room is small, and time is running out. Jardom's palms sweat, and his fists clench.

Nali clicks on her comm, and channels Captain Phasma.

“Captain, we need help. Naos has gained access to General Hux’s office – he is firing the missiles without authorization –"

A shot is fired, and it zips past Nali’s head, burning into the wall. The comm is shut off immediately, and Jardom takes another step between them, incited with a paternal instinct he can’t smother, and has never known before.

He has never been more ready to kill another person before, either. He knows if Haas challenges him, he will stop at nothing to protect Nali and his child. He will kill Haas, if that's what it takes to end the madness.

“Enough,” Haas announces, reloading his blaster, “I’ve had enough. Of you, of the bastard monk Kylo Ren, and of your weak-willed, timid boyfriend you like to think passes for a man. I am done. Done. Done with all of you, and everything.”

Simultaneously, Haas raises his blaster to fire again, and Nali knows what’s coming, though, not consciously.

She remembers what General Hux told her – how her body would know what to do before she consciously knew it, herself. And, true to his word, she, without any conscious thought, reaches into her waist belt, and takes out the dagger the General gifted her.

A blast is fired, there's kickback, boots move across the floors in advancement and retreat, the dagger is thrown, and in less than five seconds, two bodies hit the floor.

 

* * *

 

“When you came to me, you wanted power, Kylo Ren,” Master Snoke reminds him, backing away as Kylo advances slowly on him, “You wanted the greatest powers there were to be had – you wanted to be in touch with the Dark side, to be neither Jedi or Sith, but something separate, and I have given you all you asked for. You have it all, now. Where is your gratitude?”

“I have nothing without him,” Kylo says back in a voice he doesn’t recognize, “I love him with all there is to me. Every cell of my body – every midi-chlorian – it was all for him. It always was. It was for him. My gratitude died with him.”

“No,” Master Snoke reprimands, “No – you are my _pupil_ , Kylo Ren. You are not solely for General Hux, you never were _for_ him –"

“Peace is a lie. There is only General Hux,” Kylo starts, his lightsaber sparking dangerously as he raises it to slash menacingly toward Master Snoke.

“That is not what is meant by –"

“Through Hux, I am granted strength,” Kylo continues, his body dense with pain, and the electricity around him crackling loudly enough to meet the volume of his own heartbeat in his ears.

“Kylo Ren!” Master Snoke shouts, “That is _enough_!”

“Through the strength Hux grants me, I attain power,” Kylo chants, managing to take off Master Snoke’s left hand, closing in on him as Master Snoke grips his wrist, and seethes.

“With the power Hux grants me, he will see me to victory," Kylo recites, tears in his eyes, "Through Hux, my chains will be broken, and I will be free. I will be golden.”

Master Snoke looks up at him in confusion, only to be beheaded.

His head rolls, his body slumps, and collapses, but nothing is restored in the universe – his death is so unsatisfactory, Kylo’s rage doesn’t subside. He looks back to Hux’s body, vacant, and so horribly still. He hates. He hates more than he can, more than he knew one could – he hates, he hates, he despises, he loathes, and it _consumes_ him - it consumes him and everything around him.

He hates, and it spreads across Malachor, his body a beacon of dark light that the Black and Gold missiles lock onto, and fire toward.

 

* * *

 

 

The ship rocks violently with the expulsion of the missiles, Haas slides to the floor with the dagger in his center skull, and Nali curls next to Jardom, pressing down on the bleeding wound in his abdomen.

His breaths are coming in short, loudly, and all through his nose – Nali can hear Captain Phasma coming from down the hall, and she yells for her to bring aid, that Jardom is wounded.

She can hear Amavia in the back of her head. She can feel Amavia's blood on her hands where Jardom's blood is now.

She wonders how many more times she's meant to live out this nightmare.

She wonders how many more times she can survive it.

She wonders how many more times she deserves it.

“Nali – Nali,” Jardom begs for her attention.

She redirects her gaze to him, and he touches her face, looking worried, “are you okay?”

“Yes, stars, of course _I’m_ okay, Jardom – you are the one injured.”

His breaths sound like hiccups, his chest heaves, and every hiccup pushes more blood out from between her fingers where she’s applying pressure, trying to keep it all in. She feels that she's been here before. She feels she knows how this song goes, how this story ends, how much time is left.

“Nali, you have my child.”

Her eyes widen, and he smiles at her, though it’s shaky. He seems earnest, and there's a cramp in her stomach, but it doesn't dull her happiness.

“I… do?”

“Yes. You have – you have my child. I am so happy. Are you happy? Is it okay?”

Nali is unsure of what she ever did to deserve Jardom's unguarded affections – her eyes well up with tears, and she nods emphatically, “yes, yes, it is okay. Of course - of course, it is okay. I am happy – I could never carry another’s child. You are my only one.”

“Precious one,” Jardom says softly.

She nods again, and answers, “yes. Yes, you’re my precious one.”

“Listen – listen to me,” Jardom begins again, his lungs rattling in a way he recognizes, but he doesn’t think Nali does, “I may – I may cross some horizon – you may not see me when I slip over it, but just – just because you cannot see me does not mean that I am not with you. Are you l-listening? Listening carefully?”

“Yes,” she says, her eyes sad, and her pulse jumping in her neck, “I – I’m listening, but Jardom, please, don’t –"

“I will be all around you… when you speak, I-I will hear you, no matter how far, and when-when you think something is just a happy accident, or a coincidence, it's – it’s me – I will make every happiness for you that I can, and n-nothing is an accident. Not while I w-watch over you. So, listen, please – e-even if I am not before you – if I leave you sooner than you’d hoped, know that I am in the sand, the waters, the sky, the plants, the ground, the s-stars, and even in the space that seems dark, and s-scary – I am there too. I am all-all-all... around you.”

“Jardom…” Nali whines, brushing Jardom’s cheek with her bloody thumb, “you don’t – the – the medical droids will be here soon.”

“And there will be little for them to do,” Jardom says assuredly, “It’s okay, though – Nali. Nali, I will surround you, and you-you will feel all of my love for you, everyday. Everyday that you live. You will feel me, because I’ll never r-really be gone. You, _and_ our child. I will be there. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Nali answers, tears falling down her face, “I understand.”

Unlike Amavia, Jardom is kind and loving in these moments of terror and sorrow. He smiles at her in that wondrous way he sometimes gets caught doing - the look that should be reserved for holy structures or immense cosmic events. He gives her those eyes of his, and he tells her, “it is amazing to me – you-you always look s-so beautiful, even when you cry. H-how do you do that?”

She shakes her head at him, somehow incredibly happy, and painfully sad all at once.

"Naos had no happiness, Nali," Jardom mentions, "If you can, e-escape. Get somewhere safe. Get out of the Order. Do something in h-honor of him - something that will let his spirit r-rest."

"I will, I will," Nali promises. 

Droids fill the room, blood blankets the floor, Naos lies dead with eyes wide open, and Captain Phasma pulls Nali from the ground by her arm.

“What has happened?” Captain Phasma demands to know.

Nali’s tears cascade as she relays all that she knows.

 

* * *

 

As the planet crumbles from within, the missiles strike, all that was Malachor is gone in an instant, and in that instant, Kylo is one with the Force. Even in his Darkness, and his agony.

He senses that Nali has learned of Hux’s demise, that she isn’t angry at him – that she believes he must have been forced to kill him, because she does not believe him otherwise capable of hurting Hux. And she’s right. And he’s proud of her.

He senses Haas’s death, and he thinks that the pity that was Naos Haas might finally find some measure of rest in death. He hopes Naos Haas’s suffering is done. He was young to have suffered so much, and Kylo did not care for Naos Haas much, but Hux saw promise in him – Hux would think it a pity that Naos is gone, and since Hux is not there to think anything at all, Kylo thinks it for him.

He senses Jardom passing, his final gasps lost in the sound of droids beeping and whirring, unable to resuscitate him. He senses Jardom in the Force, he senses Jardom’s acceptance, and he wonders, not for the first time, how Jardom could always make peace so easily, with the hand he was dealt.

Kylo can sense that Millicent will be confused about where Hux has gone, and she will die displeased that he never returned.

Kylo can sense Ziare Phasma’s tears, how many will be wept for her lost brother whose name she never knew.

Kylo can feel Rey's resolution to reach Leia, and deliver his message. He's grateful.

Kylo can foresee Leia Organa's sad eyes, and how she will embrace Rey.

For a moment, Kylo thinks he hears Han Solo laughing.

Light and heat tear him apart, and then there is nothing left.


	14. Chapter 14

**After the War**

Naalol is not a heavily populated planet – it is the only site of the last of the Jedi, though, and so homes are built, villages are established, and it is regarded as a peaceful place. People of all walks of life come to visit; they look in awe at the Angels, they offer beads, prayers, foods, holo-photos, bits of jewelry - visitors from all over the galaxy come to give all manner of offering to the Angels, and they admire the statue garden with great respect.

Younglings run around the rich garden that now surrounds the Angels, and is maintained by the training Jedi – there are so many statues now - there was an influx of them during the war, but still, Angels do pop up every now and again. Many Angels have been dedicated to galactic war heroes, and all have differing wing-types. An Angel titled Anakin Skywalker holds the helmet of Darth Vader, has one wing up, strong, and healthy, while the other is broken, and fallen. His plates read, ‘fallen in Light.’ Few know who he is on-sight, but the younglings are always eager to learn.

There are plates that read the names Poe and Finn Dameron – the one named Finn is an older gentleman made of a darker stone. Under one arm, he holds a Resistance Pilot Helmet while his other arm is looped with the one named Poe – in Poe’s far arm, he holds a stormtrooper helmet. Both the men stand proudly, smiling up at the sky, and both have a singular wing – creating an Angel only by being twined together. Their plates read, ‘fallen in goodness, bravery, and happiness.’

The Angel Leia Organa is looking down with a bit of a sly smile to the one called Han Solo. Her wings are expansive, her eyes twinkle like they might glance someway or another, but they are only for Han. Her plates read, ‘fallen bathed in moonlight and greatness.’

The Angel Obi-Wan Kenobi has wings turned in, shadowing himself, but his expression is playful, almost suspicious, and the younglings like to look at him, poke him, ask him to speak, or come alive, so they can play. His plates read, ‘fallen in knowing.’

“Maman,” one youngling calls.

Nali looks down at her son, donned in his Jedi robes, and knows what he is about to ask before it’s done.

He is staring up at the statue of General Hux and Kylo Ren.

They are the only statues directly interacting – they are kissing, in fact.

General Hux’s statue is made almost entirely out of amber, fire agate, citrine stone, and beryl, making him glittering and golden in the beam of light it is directly situated under. Kylo Ren is made of black obsidian, black onyx, black tourmaline, and a shocking red ruby – he holds a lightsaber that is impaling the General through his chest, but their expressions are at ease, if perhaps a touch regretful. Both have one of their hands wrapped around the hilt of the saber, and their free hands on the backs of each other’s necks, neither of them have wings - it is very nearly obscene, in contrast to all the statues surrounding them.

“You want to know why they don’t have wings, don’t you?”

“Mm,” her son hums back, his eyes wide with wonder as he stares up to those massive statues.

Nali looks up at them too, wonders at how perfectly captured their likenesses are, and she says, “that is because theirs is a story… not about Angels.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, looking at her with befuddlement, “Isn’t this a garden of Angels?”

“Yes, but they…” Nali sighs, unsure how to tell this story, and how much of it to tell.

She looks around for a moment, catches Rey’s eye, and Rey nods resolutely, giving her an answer to an unasked question.

Rey is very in touch with the Force, Nali has learned – she must know what they’re talking about even from that distance. As far as Nali can tell, Rey is not so powerful as Kylo Ren, but close to. Or perhaps she just chooses to use her powers differently, so her power is not so often displayed.

With Rey's blessing, Nali refocuses on her son. She fled the First Order long ago, though she hasn’t explained that to her young son yet. He is only fourteen standard years old, and she doesn’t feel ready to tell him all that she’s seen, done, and been.

Lord Kylo Ren told her to seek sanctuary with Rey, to explore Naalol, to maintain the Angels – she did all she could do. Rey was the first to notice that Nali's son was Force-sensitive, and that’s when Nali knew she had to stay in the poor village, on Naalol. Even so, she did not fight in the Resistance.

She couldn’t even tell a soul who she was, where she was from, what she _knew_ – there was just too much at risk. At the time, she was pregnant, her love was so recently lost, and he’d only wished for her to be free, at the end. To put herself and their baby at risk by exposing herself would be doing his wish a terrible dishonor.

She couldn't fight for the Resistance. It felt wrong to change alliances to the apparently 'winning,' side. Even if she didn't have an ethical issue with joining the Resistance at the end of the war, she couldn't risk her pregnancy. She was no pilot, no drill instructor, no Officer - not to anyone. She was lost. She didn’t know who she was supposed to be back then.

She’s getting the hang of it, now.

Nali clears her throat, and extrapolates, “both committed acts so unfeeling, so terrible, that they are rarely spoken of now. The destruction they wrought upon this galaxy echoes to this day.”

She points to Lord Kylo Ren’s statue, thinking his perfect likeness might move and give her a smirk, ask her why she's pointing so rudely at him - she would scream. She would scream, if he came to life, and she'd cry, and jump, and run into his arms, sob into his chest, and she knows he would accept her. He always had.

He doesn't come alive, though. His likeness remains perfectly captured, and perfectly still.

She points without repercussion, and says, “that there is the leader of the Knights of Ren. He went by the title Lord Kylo Ren – he was strong with the Force, but he was no Jedi, nor was he a Sith. He majorly used the Dark side of the Force – he felt love, though. Despite the Darkness, we know that he loved General Hux more powerfully than most can fully trust or comprehend.”

“And the General – he’s the golden man?”

“Yes,” Nali answers, looking up at the man she so admired – that she still does, even having grown, even understanding who and what he was, “When General Hux was taken from Lord Kylo Ren, Lord Kylo Ren destroyed the entire planet of Malachor in his anguish. To avenge the General, Lord Kylo Ren destroyed the Sith Lord Snoke, destroying himself, and the planet in the process.”

Her son looks up at the statues thoughtfully again, then asks, “why would we make statues of them?”

She tilts her head, smiling a little at those men – wrapped in darkness, but still they twinkle; “not to celebrate them. Not exactly. But the very fact that their love existed at all in the darkness of war, the injustice of rising fascism, and so much personal tragedy, is remarkable. That they loved one another – it forces us to question if man is redeemable, if justice is ever served, or true, or enough, and it forces us to acknowledge that to live entirely in the Light or the Dark is toxic – the struggle to choose between the two calls drove Lord Kylo Ren to madness.”

Her son looks at her again, nearly worried, and she smiles weakly, explaining gently, “he did not have the teachers you do – his teachings were based in torture, and pain. There will come a day that the Light and the Dark sides of the Force have a clear middle, a place for the men like Lord Kylo Ren, whose furor and passions empowered him, whose passion brought him _closer_ to the Force – there will someday be a place for the middle, a place that does not shove those that belong in the middle, into the Dark.”

She turns her eyes back to Lord Kylo Ren and General Hux, standing at attention in a way she knows General Hux would be proud of. She touches at the dagger in her belt holster, feels her hearts swell, and continues, “these statues represent a great failure on the part of humanity, for both the General and Lord Kylo Ren, the tragedy they wrought upon the galaxy, the tragedy both their lives were built on, and the hope, and impossibility, of their love that saved innumerable planets, and lives, from the power, and cruelty of the Sith Lord, Snoke. They aren’t war heroes – they were war _criminals_. They committed genocide together, they destroyed planets, entire bodies of government, and countless lives…”

Still smiling, she says with certainty, “they are not Angels, and whether or not either of them were redeemed in their final acts is debatable, but for many… they symbolize hope. In how they lived, how they died… and that they loved. They loved with an innocence, untouched by cruelty, war, or lasting bitterness. They could not forgive the universe at large, they could not forgive circumstance, or fate, but they forgave each other for the men they’d become, and the mistakes they made. They could not forgive the universe, or destiny, but they could forgive one another, and one another was all they ever truly needed.”

“That sort of love sounds like a fairytale type.”

Laughing quietly, Nali tells him, “yes, it does, doesn’t it? Their love was so improbable… so unlikely. Their flame was kept burning through a place with no air, or light – a place no flame should have survived. But it did. I used to think… I used to think knowing them was to know Gods, but they were mortal men – faulty, flawed, selfish. It did not mean they couldn’t grow to care, or love – it wasn’t what they were most apt to do, though. It wasn’t knowing them that was so Heavenly. It was their love – seeing their love was divine. If anything between them can be called it – their love – that was divinity.”

“What about da?”

Nali’s smile grows, and she takes her son’s hand to guide him to the sweet, immortalized face of her most precious one.

“That was divine too, young one.”

A breeze passes through them, ruffling their robes, and Nali smiles, breathing in deeply, and she says, “see? That gust of wind that just went by? That was him right there, Naos.”

Naos grins at her, and begs to know, “will da do it again?”

“Let’s see,” she proposes, guiding Naos to all that remains of Jardom Gillash.

His permanent, kind smile, and open wings welcome them, and just as Naos is about to ask another question, a breeze goes by, ruffling his hair, and Naos laughs delightedly.


	15. Chapter 15

There is starlight shining down.

There is a light blue sky, a field with flowers that never really existed anywhere but within Kylo Ren’s head.

There is the sound of beach waves, the smell of sea salt, something distinctly plant, and floral too.

There’s the sound of gasping as well.

Kylo picks his head up to search for the source of the noise, and he sees a back turned to him, hunched over, and shaking.

He knows that red hair – he’d know it anywhere, from any distance. He knows that shape, and that genetic design – the freckles on the back of the neck, the slope of those shoulders, that tapered waist, and those long legs.

“…Ari?”

And just like that, Aurelien turns around, two thin tears still streaming down his face. He stares at Kylo in wonder, in awe with those icy, diamond eyes, and Kylo feels their channel burst to life. There are memories, connections, dreams, emotions - their souls are exchanging information at the start.

“… you’re real?” Ari asks, heart drumming.

“I… think so? I think so. Are you?” Kylo asks in return, stepping closer.

Aurelien reaches out a tentative, shaking hand, and replies, “I… don’t know. You once told me reality is entirely arbitrary, anyway, so… who’s to say what’s real or not? I suppose I'm as real as I ever have been, if that's your question.”

Kylo smiles, because he remembers telling Aurelien that. He remembers telling Aurelien that reality was never a certainty, back when Aurelien was only General Hux. He remembers it all. And Aurelien does too.

“We’re in the illusion. We’re in Aurelien Grasslands,” Kylo says.

“I thought it was Hell,” Ari chokes out, his face reddish, tears building up again.

Brow furrowing worriedly, Kylo steps close enough to touch Ari’s hand, hold it in his own. He tilts his head in way of asking Ari what he means by that, and Ari stares at their twined hands, telling him, “to be – this… this paradise you made for me… you made it for _me_ , and it’s _you_ , it’s an extension of your mind, it’s a place – it’s made up of _you_. I thought… I’d be stuck in a place that was _made_ of you without… without ever having you here again…”

“I could never abandon you like that,” Kylo assures with coy playfulness, able to smell now, that intoxicating, masculine scent that is just Aurelien Roane Hux. That scent he can only catch when he's closer than Ari lets anyone else come.

“You couldn’t control that – you couldn’t have known –"

Ari watches in some confusion as Kylo clasps his hand a bit differently, and then situates another hand on Ari’s waist. Ari watches Kylo's hands move, and then stares up at him, blinking tears away, letting them fall from his jaw. Kylo’s eyes are tearful as well, and he can’t say why, but it feels safe. It feels fine. The tears are fine, everything is fine - in fact, he's rather sure that nothing can be _wrong_ again. He has Aurelien in his arms, and Aurelien is safe, he's a soul, and a body, and nothing can destroy this - no predatory bureaucrat like Snoke, no annoying barely-ally like Rey - no one can touch it. 

He once thought that Aurelien served his sentence of punishment long before he ever committed a crime, and now, he thinks... now, comes the time for peace. For them both.

“I couldn’t stand you up, now could I?” Kylo teases, smiling, and leading their first step together.

Ari moves with him, face breaking out into a smile, and Ben Solo’s mother bird starts singing from somewhere nearby.

“I owe you a dance,” Kylo tells him, “That – and you stole my thunder of confessing.”

“What?” Ari inquires, “What confession?”

“I loved you first, Ari,” Kylo tells him, “I loved you first, and I still do. I’m going to love you for all there ever was, is, or will be. It’s endless. And I should’ve said it first.”

“You’re such a _baby_ ,” Ari laughs (and it's glorious, it's so beautiful, it's music, and Kylo's heart beats harder for it), “You’re really mad I got to say it first?”

“You knew I wanted to,” Kylo accuses, turning Ari, and then pulling him in closer than is totally necessary.

“Yes. I stole from you, didn’t I?” Ari asks, not even a modicum of regret in his tone.

Ari is never sorry. 

And Kylo still loves him for it.

“You did,” Kylo answers, lidded eyes flickering between Ari’s, “but I don’t mind.”

Ari’s arms curl around his neck, unsure still, weak, confused, but so willing to fall into Kylo’s arms, whether they’re real or not – if being real means anything at all.

Kylo tugs Ari in close, splaying his hands across Ari’s back, feeling where that diagonal scar is beneath his uniform shirt, staring at those freckles by the turn of Ari’s jaw. He tilts his head low and to the side, slides his lips against Ari’s experimentally, and he’s awash with relief when everything remains perfectly stable, physical, and true.

Ari’s lips are plush and eager, a high whine in his throat indicates desperation, but happiness too, and Kylo can feel Ari’s heart beating against his own. Their channel is aglow with feelings that can only be described as _enormous_. Their souls are twining like roots of a familiar flower, glad to be in the soil together again.

When they pull apart, Ari asks, “you did this, didn’t you?”

Through the channel, Kylo can tell what Ari means.

* * *

“If there is nothing beyond us now, I myself will pave a road or build an illusion to continue on in.”

Hux made a soft noise – something sort of unguarded, even friendly. Kylo watched as Hux shook his head fondly, and replied, “frankly, Ren, if anyone is capable of rearranging the universe to fit his defiant will, I would not bet against you.”

* * *

“I think if you didn’t believe in me, Ari – I don’t think it would’ve worked.”

They turn together again, and their hands glide over one another, so familiar and at the same time, so new. So newly important - so significant in a way it wasn't before.

“And you’ll be getting my cat back to me, right? Phasma as well?”

Kylo snorts a laugh, and responds drily, “already making demands, General?”

“Well, you can’t expect me to stop _wanting_. I’m selfish, and you are too – I think we’ll have time to get used to that, though.”

Grinning, Kylo nods, turns them, and responds certainly, “yes. Yes, I do think we’ll have time now.”

Ari smiles back at him, and it’s… it’s _serenity_.

It’s everything he needs – those glittering eyes, those full lips, plush from his kisses, that synched waist, those flustered cheeks…

* * *

It is a smile. One so beautiful, there are tears for it, somewhere.

A feeling of validation.

A feeling of welcome.

A feeling of coming to a restful end.

Relief.

* * *

Peace is not a lie.

It’s Aurelien Roane Hux, and the way he smiles, the way he stares, the satin of his skin, and the length of his opaque lashes.

It fills Kylo’s heart to the point of brimming and bursting, and he’s at peace. Real peace. The same peace he felt that day in the garden of Angels, holding Ari to him, teaching him to meditate, and that sudden rush of tranquility, that sense of belonging somewhere, of being wanted for everything he is, and everything else he failed to be.

Ari’s smile is so beautiful, so holy, so promising, and perfect, tears drop from Kylo’s eyes.

He feels validated in that smile – like he can really make Ari happy, that he already has, somehow.

He feels welcomed – not like a guest who’s overstayed their welcome, and not torn between Light or Dark, just drawn to the shine of that red hair, and the glistening of those sharp eyes.

He feels restful – like he can finally relax. The war is over for him. All he has is Ari, and Ari has him, and it’s so much more than enough.

He feels… relief.

Relief. Finally, truly, and lasting.

“I do too,” Ari tells him.

The channel is so open, and it’s so real, and it's so wonderful to hear Ari reading his thoughts – Kylo carved out a bit of space-time just for them, a place where he can make as many moons as Ari might like, a place where Ari can paint, and he can kiss Ari whenever and however he pleases, and they can swim, they can garden, they can explore, and expand. They can fuck, they can revere, they can sing, they can love - they can have a life together. A long one. Maybe an endless one.

This is no end.

No. Not for them.

They used to think the other would be the end of them, but it was never true. The exact opposite was always true, and seems true still, now.

This isn't where they end.

It's where they begin.


	16. Chapter 16

**NAA End Notes**

IT’S THE END. IT HAPPENED. I FINISHED THIS SERIES. I’M PROUD BUT SAD AND HAVE MANY PEOPLE TO ACKNOWLEDGE IN THESE FINAL NOTES

There is so much to say about this series that I had to make a post-epilogue thing instead of putting it all in the end notes because it’s simply too much to say!

First of all, I have so, so many people to thank so deeply. Lengthy, encouraging, motivational and specific reviews are the fucking lifeblood of authors and I have been so blessed with so many of you for this series???

For so consistently supporting me through this series with uplifting, encouraging, insightful and well-thought comments, I must thank the following people with all my heart: **FemaleSpock** , prettycivilian, MsModernity, sunlightonwater (TFA_finn_poe_shipper), technorat, starlitexdecay, mocaccino, **WinterfellsDaughter** , oimarvel, nosseka, **grace zodiac** , **FantasyTLOU** , **singersalvageshop** , RubyQuinn, **bloodandpepper** , GingerSnappish, **KaisaSolstys** , **wrmhle** , nullsk, **shotgunsue** , **MissMegh** , **Keeblo** , Buffy1066, scarlet_tongue and Mavani. (those of you that are bolded, you’re bolded and special because you’d either leave me super specific reviews telling me what you liked or you’d leave like dissertations on every chapter lol)

The support, the no-pressure encouragements, the specific lines/scenes/descriptions you’d pick out and engage me about – it made writing this monster of a series so enjoyable. I’ve never had such an interactive audience and while I thank reviewers at the end of any chaptered fic or series, this one is special in a new way – I’ve really never had an audience like all of you and you’re all so wonderful, I have no way to thank you enough. Reviews are the lifeblood of writers and you all took that to heart and made me feel appreciated and motivated. You’re all so wonderful – thank you so, so much! Every review has been read and re-read to keep me motivated through every single update – you’re all wonderful, whether you commented once or twice on every chapter.

For the beautiful, incredible artwork donated, gifted and commissioned for this series, I deeply, deeply thank: villainyforbeginners, wingedicks, singersalvageshop, pembroke and theriseofthefirstorder.

The artwork that was gifted to me in particular ( **villanyforbeginners** , **singersalvageshop** and **theriseofthefirstorder** ) – I don’t even know what to do with myself. There’s something so unique and moving about inspiring one form of art with my own. To see scenes/exchanges/characters I arranged brought to life like that – just out of the kindness of your heart – it’s so incredible and I’m so thankful. You’re all really lovely people – all the artists that contributed – and you’ve made this story so much richer for having added to it with your own talent. Thank you so, so, so much. TT A TT

This entire series is un-beta’d, so all mistakes belong to me. If I ever develop the virtue of patience, I’ll go back and fix all those small grammatical errors and such lol but let’s not get our hopes too high.

All military lingo, stories of combat training and the like are all based on real types of training my husband, a U.S Marine, underwent. ‘The Culling,’ is based on what the Marine Corps calls ‘The Crucible,’ which is completed at the end of boot camp and was dramatized for the sake of the story. Suicide/Fire Watch is also a very real thing across all military branches that happens in all training facilities for the Marine Corps – this is for the sake of making sure everyone is safe, that there is always someone on ‘guard duty,’ and while bad things have happened to young Marines on Fire/Suicide Watch, Hux’s experience is fictionalized and not based on any real event I know of.

The experiences of sexual/emotional/physical/environmental trauma and subsequent mental illness as described in this series are all based on my own personal experiences of trauma, abuse and mental illness. You can feel free to engage me about those things if you want and if you have any questions about the role those themes played in the series.

For the sake of tradition, I’ll complete the rest of these notes in the same fashion I’ve done all my other end notes. Enjoy me talking to myself and thank you all so much! If I don’t answer any remaining questions in these notes, feel free to leave them in the comments and I’ll be happy to answer!

“Melanie, what the Hell inspired this convoluted ridiculousness that is NAA???”

Honestly, like most of my fics, it started as a writing exercise. I wanted to practice writing erotica, but I’m a slow-build type of writer (and reader, frankly) and while I was thinking up a plot for something I could write for kylux, I had the idea of the garden of Angels and the statues of Kylo and Hux. I built a story around it and here we are.

“Melanie, do you mean to tell me that you wrote all of NAA just for the epilogue and that literally nothing else about it was planned out???”

Yeah. That seemed cooler in my head, but in reality, I guess it’s sort of irresponsible writing lmao

“Melanie, I feel like there are so many open endings here?? What about the Commandant??? I wanted him to die! What about Emperor Hux??? I wanted that! What about –“

The open endings that do exist here exist for a reason – the unanswered questions, as unlikely as it seems, _were_ actually planned out. Some conflicts saw resolutions and others didn’t – there are patterns to them, if you look hard enough, but I didn’t lay out a ton of clues as to why some conflicts were resolved and others not.

In _High Hopes…_ Chapter 12, there’s this bit of foreshadowing;

“It’s been so many years, those questions and their answers don’t matter. **So many** **questions will go unanswered** – the ones he has wanted to ask his father, his mother, his brother, his classmates and now Ren too – **there will be questions unanswered and he needs to find some peace in that.**

**Someday he’ll be ash on the wind** and he won’t know how far the universe extends, if it has a shape or a name or if he was ever capable of loving a person. **He probably won’t know who makes the Angels on Naalol or why it was so easy for him to grow dangerously attached to the cyclone Kylo Ren.**

He can’t control that – **he can’t have all the answers and someday he’ll die, still not knowing so much he wants to know**. He thinks that when he dies, he hopes it’s before Phasma so that he never has to know a life without her, that it will be long after Millicent so that she will never have to know a life without him. He thinks too that when he dies, he’ll remember Kylo Ren. **He’ll remember hating Kylo Ren, wanting to control him, wanting to understand him like a question unanswered** …

**He** **will** **die with questions, questions that will go unanswered** , but he while he’s still alive…”

Throughout NAA, a recurring theme has been Hux’s realism bordering on pessimism in accepting that he will die with many questions unanswered and there was a long meditation on the injustice of the universe – that where there is unrest or injustice, Hux would meet it and destroy it. With Hux gone, there will be more injustice and so, more unanswered questions.

I wanted this story to evoke a feeling of unrest towards the end – to illustrate, in a way, the difference between “getting what you want, but not what you need,” versus, “getting what you need, but not what you want.” So, while we may not have gotten everything we wanted, we got what we /needed/ which was Hux and Kylo together, healing.

“Melanie, what does the gold mean?? I get that you’re #deep and whatever and into symbolism, but what does it meAN????”

That’s totally subjective! This series is so oversaturated with symbolism, whatever you’ve derived from the colors of blue, red, black and gold, the juxtaposition of the trio of Phasma, Hux and Kylo to Nali, Haas and Jardom, the etymology of everyone’s names – it’s all up to you to take from it what you want. I would love to hear reflections on what any/all of you make of the symbolism throughout.

“Melanie, a more specific question that’s been made time and again in the comments section – did Hux’s father set Hux up at the gala and did he do the same to Brendol’s mother?”

In regard to how you want the story to go? It’s up to you since I kept it so vague. From my end of things, although I didn’t get into the specifics of Hux’s parents’ relationship (believe me, I have so many tangential ideas), Hux’s father did not set up anything. He is a proud man and even if he did perceive his wife as an object or possession, cold and removed, he would still be too possessive of her to murder her or set up her murder. She really was killed by accident – his loss of her is a _really_ subtle nod at why he might be such a cold man, why his expectations of Brendol were so high and why he hated Hux so much. Hux was his illegitimate child born from the Second Woman – the woman who proved he could love again and, though it’s never clearly stated, he loses again.

He tries to ‘will,’ Hux out of existence probably the same way he wishes he could will away all remaining evidence of his love and vulnerabilities. He loved and lost more than once and he probably came from his own fucked up background to make him the evil man I painted him as – but, for the original question, no, Hux’s father played no role in the attempt on Hux’s life (Hux was too useful at that point – it would’ve been counterintuitive to try and kill him) or the death of Brendol’s mother (who he genuinely cared about).

“Melanie, did Hux’s mother love him??? Is she dead or did she just never come back for him??? Did Brendol love him????”

She loved Hux very desperately, but while I have headcanons and ideas about why she couldn’t be with him – her love wasn’t strong enough to save him from his father. Make that of it what you will.

She is dead – the only time this is really implied, other than Hux’s flashback, is when he thinks about the portrait he drew of her and how Phasma hid it from him for his own sake. He draws to release tension, to let go of his anxieties – it’s the only time he lets his brain wander wherever it wants to and do what it wants. So, a highly detailed portrait of his mother, who he only saw once, would imply he was probably very deep in thought about her. He could have asked for a holo-photo of her if he wanted to – we know Hux is capable of breaking into just about any documentation system in the galaxy, so he could’ve found where she was living, what she was doing or obtained something sentimental of her.

The reason he draws the portrait is because he knows he will not see her again – that there is not even a dim hope that he’ll see her again, which is why remembering every detail of her face was so important to him. He was preserving her in the only place she’ll ever exist; his memory.

Brendol did love Hux, despite hurting him. Did he know what was going to happen to Hux’s droid? Probably, yes. Would he have really been able to kill Hux after being pitted against him? You might think so, but odds are that – no, he wouldn’t have. In some flashbacks with him, Hux remembers a tender version of him and he describes Brendol’s retellings of stories from the Academy as ‘scary,’ implying that Brendol himself was scared. He was fucked up, bred to maim and kill, but he clearly cared about Hux. That dagger he gifted to Hux was given to him with the same purpose Hux gave it to Nali – unguarded and almost paternal sentiment.

“Melanie, whO THE FUCK MAKES THE ANGELS?????”

We do, friends.

(for a non-spiritual answer, refer to question one; many questions must go unanswered in life and this is one of them).

“Melanie, are Kylo and Hux really together or is that some sorta dreamscape/unreality?”

No, it’s not a dreamscape or unreality – the two of them are actually together on a different plane of time! They are truly together and actually happy. Kylo pledged that if there were no afterlife, he’d construct one out of pure power of will so as not to be separated from Hux – their sanctuary had been waiting for them for a long time.

You can rest assured as well that they’re happy – Kylo would never mind where they wound up, but if you recall, Hux helped build the illusion-house the way he used to design a made-up home as a child and when Hux tried to kill himself as a teen, he said over and over ‘I want to go home,’ before passing out without knowing what he meant by it. In a way, it was his own vision of the future – he made a home with Kylo and upon his death, which was a suicide in the end, he wound up there. Hux did eventually make it “home.”

Foreshadowing of what the end would be and how Kylo would get them there was planted throughout. Everything bolded were the significant moments of foreshadowing that some of you caught onto, but luckily, I planted them subtly enough that most of you didn’t mind them as they passed by.

In _Dawn Is Coming…_ Chapter 12, there was this scene;

“Hux sighs and continues, “I am the one that deluded myself into believing you were something other than what you presented to the galaxy. **I invited the danger of your company.** A mistake I cannot make again.”

Kylo briefly contemplates washing Hux’s memory of the last ten minutes, but that would be a horrible deception. That would confirm Hux’s claims; that he is disloyal, dishonest and untrustworthy.

Kylo has never wanted to reverse the hands of time so terribly before.

With nothing else to argue, Kylo kneels before Hux like a servant, his helmet tucked under his arm, his eyes open and imploring as he looks up to Hux. A flicker of hope is ignited in him when Hux looks down to him.

Hux’s eyes are distant and unreadable.

Hux is not present – Kylo can sense this. Hux is somewhere far away, smothering a screaming child somewhere deep in his psyche. Kylo wants to bring Hux back to his eyes. He is at a loss, though.

**“I failed you.”**

**“You attacked me.”**

**_A green lightsaber gliding through the air, meeting Kylo’s red. There is danger. Imminent danger. All Kylo can see is the green glow of the unfamiliar lightsaber._ **

Kylo shuts his eyes and shakes his head, shame flooding behind his eyes, “no – I … please, if nothing else, please let me attend the gala with you. I must protect you. Let me repay my life debt. Let me guard you. Please. Tell me how I can redeem myself.””

And also in Chapter 12 of _Dawn Is Coming…_ ;

“He sighs and the breath is hot and wet, but no tears come. He grips tightly to Hux’s greatcoat and falls asleep on his floor like that. Wishing, for once, he knew how to be a person. Wishing, as he has a thousand, million, infinite times that he did not feel so much.

Darkness envelopes him, but **he knows more than that awaits**.

**He tries to convince himself he is a slayer of beasts, capable of vanquishing whatever will come from the darkness in his mind.**

**Somehow, without Hux’s throbbing jugular under his thumb and without Hux’s eyelashes fluttering against his cheek, that promise seems empty.**

**He surrenders** to the night, to sleep, to whatever terrible visions may come. The way he always has.

**The way he always will**.”

In Chapter 13 of _Dawn Is Coming…_

“ **He remembers first meeting General Hux** – how they both stood before Snoke. Snoke openly forbade Kylo from entering Hux’s mind “without cause.” General Hux had rolled his eyes at that – as if he doubted Kylo’s abilities and Kylo wanted to enter Hux’s mind just to spite him. **He would not disobey Snoke** , though.

Kylo notes absently that Hux’s hair was shorter then.

**He sees the green lightsaber again. It cuts through the air and lands hard against Kylo’s saber. There is a muttering; someone’s heart is pounding. There are several hearts. All of them are pounding. He hears a strange, unfeeling laugh** and then another memory comes to him.”

Also in Chapter 13 of _Dawn Is Coming…_

“Kylo throws his arms up, “but you are the one that says **we should not fear death**!”

“I am not saying to fear it!” Hux replies, exasperated, “I am saying to **accept it as an inevitability – all is eventually lost, Ren. Even golden things we wish would stay or carry on so that we might still love them.** Have you ever had an irreplaceable dead?”

Kylo’s heart rate declines. He listens for Hux’s.

Forty beats per minute.

Strangely high for Hux. Kylo wonders if the altitude is having an effect on Hux. Or perhaps all this mention of love is making him uncomfortable.

“… I am not sure what you mean by that.”

“Tell me, Ren, have you ever heard the phrase, ‘ **after the first death, there is no other?** ’”

“No.”

“It is an end to an ancient poem -”

“And this is to do with –“

“It is to say,” Hux interrupts irritably, aggravated that Kylo tried to interrupt him, “that once lost, a life is never regained. Never replaced. There is beauty in loss – our impermanence is what drives our time spent living. And **if you ever genuinely love, you know that once lost, that one – the one you so hope continues on, the one you wish to preserve beyond death is entirely and doubtlessly irreplaceable. The death of one loved leaves a cureless wound. This one loved – once lost is never followed by another. The space they took up in the universe is vacated and cannot be filled with anything or anyone else. After the first death, there is no other**.”

Kylo has certainly never heard this phrase and while he doesn’t want to believe it, **he fears Hux is right** in what he says.

“And if there is some sort of… justice or equilibrium to the universe as Nali postulated, do you honestly think men like you and me would be granted immortality? We are not golden, Ren. I am not golden. Even if someone once made the terrible error of mistaking me for something golden, there is nothing beyond us now. What is here is all there ever has been, all there ever will be.”

**“If there is nothing beyond us now, I myself will pave a road or build an illusion to continue on in.”**

Kylo wonders belatedly why Hux chose the word “golden,” – it is poetic, even for Hux. He wonders if Hux is reciting this knowledge from an older conversation or someone else’s words.

Hux makes a soft noise – something sort of unguarded, even friendly. Kylo watches as Hux shakes his head fondly and replies, “frankly, Ren, **if anyone is capable of rearranging the universe to fit his defiant will, I would not bet against you**.”

Kylo is immersed in pleasure – Hux has betrayed himself and Kylo could not be happier for it. For all this while Hux has tried to convince Kylo and maybe even himself that he is a stoic man, but **he does have faith**.

**He has faith in Kylo**.”

In _I’m So Homesick Now…_ Chapter 6, there was this;

“ _He has lost too many people_ , Kylo thinks to himself, **_I refuse to be another_** _._

He stares at Hux’s slim waist as he gathers slips of paper. Every line and curve of Hux is artful and at times, it is hard to choose just one line or shape of his body to look at. His hands clench and unclench nervously on the tabletop.

_No matter what comes next, General Hux_ , Kylo swears to himself, _you’ve a Captain and a Knight and we will not leave you. We will stay with you. **I** will stay with you. Somehow. **I will find a way. I always find a way**._

**The universe bound him to General Hux.** Kylo is sure of this. The Force has been with him from his conception and he will wield it with more power than the galaxy has ever known if it will keep him by General Hux’s side. He cannot and will not be stopped. Let chaos reign. Kylo will serve, protect and cherish General Hux as no one else can. He will be divine.

A glimpse of red hair and the sliver of a pale profile promised him this when he was Ben Solo, a young and thoughtless padawan.

This is his destiny. He can feel it.

**Hux is his destiny**. He knows it.”

In Chapter 14 of _Dawn Is Coming…_ ;

“Hux’s face heats up and his own heart thumps – Kylo is thrilled to sense it.

“Don’t… don’t mistake me for something golden, Ren.”

“Not all that glitters is gold,” Kylo replies, “I have never wanted for simple things – precious things. I have not mistaken you for something precious, Hux. **I fear your absence anyway**.”

“ **What would it mean to you**? For my absence – **to lose me**?”

Kylo’s brows curve.

“What if it was me and not you that strayed from base as Starkiller collapsed? What if you had not found me in time? What would it have meant to you?”

Kylo searches Hux’s eyes for an answer – for something he wants to hear. Hux doesn’t seem to know what he wants to hear, though. Kylo’s fatigue is showing itself. His guards are down and he knows this, but has no energy to stop it. His focus is spread over Hux’s illusion and keeping himself upright. Honesty comes too easily.

“I don’t know that it would have meant something to me,” Kylo responds slowly, **trying to imagine where he might be without Hux’s hand in his as it is now – he feels a tight anguish and want for destruction at the thought** , “ **I think in your wake would have been an absence of meaning**.”

**_After the first death, there is no other_**.”

Also in Chapter 14 of _Dawn Is Coming…_

“He thinks he could fall asleep like this – where he knows they are just lying on the floor of Hux’s room, but **in the illusion there is no one there to bother them. He could sleep peacefully, he thinks.** Even dreamlessly.

“ **To live in this world, you must be able to do just three things; to love what is mortal, to hold it and when the time comes to let it go – to let it go**.””

In Chapter 4 of _I’m So Homesick Now…_ there was this little line of foreshadowing;

“He wants to give himself to Hux – **if all the rest of the galaxy vanished and what remained was Hux and Hux alone** , that would be fine.

**That would be more than fine**.”

In Chapter 5 of _I’m So Homesick Now…_

“When Hux and Kylo find themselves alone again, staring in the direction in which she left, Kylo does not look at Hux, but says certainly, “you know, Hux – if we were soul mates, **I would find you. I would always find you**.”

Hux sighs deeply and when Kylo thinks Hux is going to argue the mathematic improbability of that, all Hux says in response is, “…honestly, Ren… **I believe you**.””

In Chapter 8 of _I’m So Homesick Now…_ , there was _this_ right after Kylo had his first vision of the green lightsaber;

“ _Who wields this lightsaber_ , Kylo asks the void.

There is no response.

_Who means to bring harm to Hux_ , Kylo demands the void to tell him.

No answer comes.

_Is this Force user stronger than me_ , Kylo begs the void.

Still, nothing.””

No answer comes to him, because _he_ is the answer. Who wields it? _Him_ – so the Force is silent as an indication of that. Who means to bring harm to Hux? _Kylo_ – he doesn’t _want_ to bring harm to Hux, but he’s been ordered to and he’s being controlled to harm Hux by Snoke. Is this Force user stronger than him? Yes _and_ no – yes, he will be stronger in the future, but he can’t be stronger than he is at the present time, so it’s sort of a time-paradox question. Is that Force user stronger than him? That Force user – the future self – doesn’t exist yet, so there’s no real answer.

In Chapter 8 of _I’m So Homesick Now…_ Hux’s song had these foreboding lyrics;

“ **See, the cage, it called. I said, “Come on in.”**

**I will not open myself up this way again.**

Nor lay my face to the soil, nor my teeth to the sand.

I will not lay like this for days now upon end.

**You will not see me fall, nor see me struggle to stand,**

**to be acknowledged by some touch from his gnarled hands.**

You see, the cage, it called. I said, “Come on in…”

I will not open myself up this way again…

You see, the moon is bright in that treetop night.

I see the shadows that we cast in the cold, clean light.

**My feet are gold and my heart is white,**

And we race out on the desert plains all night.

See, honey, **I am not some broken thing…**

**I do not lay here in the dark waiting for thee.**

**No my heart is gold and my feet are light,**

And I am racing out on the desert plains all night…

So, some say **love is a burning thing.**

That it makes a fiery ring.

Oh, but **I know love as a caging thing.**

**Just a killer come to call from some awful dream.**

Oh, and all you folks, you come to see –

You just stand there in the glass looking at me,

But my heart is wild.

And my bones are steam.

And I could kill you with my bare hands if I was free…”

In _High Hopes…_ Chapter 3;

“Kylo is surprised when Snoke doesn’t require or even seem to want the ring. He explains that the ring is meant for Kylo and that it belonged to a very powerful healer and Force user, Mieu Pohar. Kylo tells Snoke that he heard her death, experienced the unborn child’s last moments and Snoke nods understandingly.

**“You are very in touch with the afterlife, Kylo Ren.”** ”

In _High Hopes…_ Chapter 18;

“ _Goodbyes, in Hux’s experience (usually viewing them from the outside), can be peaceful or one of the parties reluctant to say their goodbyes can plant some artificial anger between them and end it with a fight._

**_Saying “fuck off,” is a lot easier than peaceably saying, “I surrender you.”_ **

**_He’s not like Ren, though – Ren is the type to leave in anger so that he won’t have to cope with heartache. It would seem Ren tried to avoid a goodbye altogether._** _Maybe it’s his own type of mercy – maybe he was gifting Hux with a reason to be mad at him…_ ”

In Chapter 4 of _How Rare…_ ;

““We’re gonna work,” Kylo asks confidently, “Aren’t we?”

It’s good, Kylo thinks, that Hux understands him even when his questions and answers are vague and brief. He means a future – **a future with Hux**. A future where Kylo rids Hux of his migraines during the worst seasons and kisses him in the foyer because he has the freedom to do just that. A future where their time together is unlimited, where they wear rings with condensed stars, where Hux winds up leaning backward over the kitchen counter because Kylo can’t keep his hands to himself and doesn’t need to. **A future where they argue over asinine things that don’t truly matter, where Hux can paint or draw as he pleases, where Hux is a bottomless well of patient knowledge, where they can talk about the Angels, where the bed is big and plush, where Hux’s hand rests on the small of Kylo’s back whenever they happen to stand beside one another like it’s a natural state of being.**

‘We’re going to work,’ meaning, ‘we make a good team,’ ‘ **this is going to last** ,’ ‘you want this daydream future as much as I do,’ ‘ **you and I are what the poets were talking about** ,’ ‘you and I are soul mates and I found you.’ ‘We’re going to work,’ meaning, ‘ **I found you and you found me despite the odds and in every universe to come, we’ll find each other time and again and I won’t let go and you won’t let go**.’

“ **I’m afraid** we just might,” Hux answers, a hesitant smile crossing his lips.”

On top of all of those very specific scenes, there’s all the dialogues that included times of Hux asking Kylo, “so, you’re not killing me?” “Definitely not killing me, then?” “You’re not planning to kill me?” and all the times Hux called Kylo a “trap.” All those lines were peppered through the series as intentional foreshadowing.

“Melanie, will they reunite with Phasma and Millicent and eventually have all they want (in regard to family/friends)???”

Yes, they will - which is what is meant by the hopeful tone of the ending. Kylo basically built a Heaven for Hux out of his sheer inability to accept a reality without him; he’ll manage to capture Millicent somehow.

“Melanie, will Kylo and Hux be able to go back to their plane of reality at some point?”

That’s up to you to decide. Hux and Kylo are very evil and a lot of people would say that my ‘prison,’ for them is too forgiving as it is. If Kylo is able to get to those they care about, though, odds are that yes, he’s powerful enough to get them back into the reality they once knew.

If you’d prefer to think they’re being ‘punished,’ in a way and stuck in their beautiful prison for all eternity, that’s up to you and if you’d prefer to think that one day, they will return to their timeline or reality, then you can entertain that as well! The ending is a type of testament to the extent of Kylo’s untapped power. Whichever ending you’d more like – both are plausible.

“Melanie, now that NAA is over, I don’t know what to do with myself???”

Dude, me neither. This has been such a long project. Good news for y’all that enjoyed NAA, I have two major kylux fics in the works that I’ll start putting up soon. One is a very weird freeform alternate universe that is getting so long and heavy (like NAA) that I’m considering making it another series rather than a stand-alone chaptered fic and the other is another canon-compliant type fic, picking up again where TFA left off, but it goes in a very different direction than NAA. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy Don’t Tread On Me and my Tumblr prompt fills.

I’m a struggling college student and while I’m a fulltime student, I’m also a fulltime writer – I spend anywhere between 4 to 8 hours writing a day. If you have the ability or desire to help me along, I have a paypal and I’m open for commissions. You can find out more about that on my Tumblr; loserchildhotpants.tumblr.com and if you’re inclined to donate to a specific series/fic or if you want to commission a fic from me, just read up on the commission guidelines and it’d really, really help me out!

You all have been so, so wonderful. I can’t thank you all enough. Thank you so much for going on this ride with me, being so supportive and contributing to the experience of writing such a long project in such a meaningful way. This has been such a unique experience. Thank you so much <3

**Author's Note:**

> During their very sweet/domestic morning sex, Kylo very clearly wants to admit the depths of his feelings for Hux, but Hux doesn't allow him to. This creates tension - Kylo wants to talk Feelings, but Hux is not a Feelings-Talker and shuts him down, even ignoring how distraught Kylo becomes when he can't vocalize his affections.
> 
> "Melanie, the first chapter has explicit sex??? Do you mean to imply Part Four will have MORE smut??"  
> Yes!  
> "Melanie, is this gonna hurt???"  
> Yes!  
> "Melanie, is there seriously going to be more porn????"  
> Yes! I slow burned you all to death! Porn for days! Everyone rejoice! (if you're into that)  
> "Melanie, are these tags very misleading?? Will there be happiness for our Evil Space Boyfriends????"  
> The tags ARE misleading, but necessary! You'll have to read to find out!  
> "Melanie - but really, there's more porn????"  
> Yes!


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